Fierce & Fabulous (Sassy Boyz) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Fitch called Ansel’s cell for the hundredth time. When someone finally picked up, it wasn’t the sexy voice he’d been expecting.

“Yo, ’sup?” the stranger asked.

“Who’s this?”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“The guy who’s gonna kick your ass if you don’t put Ansel on the phone right now.”

“Who the fuck is Ansel? Shit, you got the wrong number, Homes.” The line went dead.

He stared at the screen for a good five minutes. It was the same number he’d been dialing for two weeks. Fitch scowled.

It was Saturday morning, their date wasn’t until much later that night, but now he was worried. If Ansel was blowing him off again, a stranger wouldn’t be answering his phone. More than likely he’d gotten mugged and his phone had been stolen. Fitch didn’t have any other way of contacting him. Fuck.

He paced his living room. Should he drive into the city early and show up unannounced to make sure Ansel was safe or should he just wait it out and turn up for their date as planned? He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

There was no way he’d be able to stay sane if he waited.

He grabbed his keys from the counter and locked the door behind him. On the way, he stopped and bought a couple of large coffees and a dozen donuts. At least he’d come bearing gifts.

It was a little after nine when he arrived. He’d never visited uninvited before and never in the light of day. It was a dilapidated building but a decent neighborhood. The city bustled around him, people going about their regular Saturday routines. The shops were open and cars crowded the streets. It was so much different in the daylight.

The front door was open so he climbed up the stairs to Ansel’s apartment and knocked on the door. There was a scuffle, some curses, and finally the locks started to click. The door opened a crack and a dark eye peeked out. Then the door swung wide and a dark-haired guy grabbed the donuts and the coffee.

“Ansel, it’s for you.” The door shut.

Fitch scowled.

A second later the door opened again. Ansel slid out and closed it behind him.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” Fitch asked. A bruise the size of a fist darkened Ansel’s eye.

Ansel winced and touched his free hand to his temple. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you.” His voice broke and he rubbed a hand over his face to cover it up. Jesus, his stomach was cramped up tighter than a hardwood joint.

“Shh,” Ansel said, rubbing his temple.

The ache that had formed in his chest was torn open as soon as he saw Ansel’s face, and the only thing his lover could do was shush him?

“What the fuck, Ansel? What happened?” He couldn’t hide his frustration and he stalked forward a step.

Ansel looked at the floor.

Unease made Fitch’s breath shallow and he swallowed a ball of dread. This couldn’t be happening. Things had been going so well, he’d almost started to believe it would be okay. He shook away the dread that threatened to bring him to his knees and forced the words out.

“Damn it, just fucking tell me.”

Ansel avoided eye contact, like if he made it, all those dark skeletons would come stumbling out to say hello.

Fitch grabbed Ansel’s shoulders and shook. “Tell me.”

“I picked up a guy, okay?”

Fitch froze with a pain that ripped a hole through his chest. The jealousy he’d been holding back surged through everything else and made him blind with rage.

“I brought him home to fuck,” Ansel continued as if he wasn’t tearing Fitch apart with every word. “I was wasted and forgot to tell him I had a dick. There was a fight. I don’t remember half of it because I drank a whole fucking bottle of tequila. Okay?” With lips pressed tight together, Ansel banged his head against the door.

Fitch balled his hands into fists and punched the wall.

Ansel flinched.

“I told you I wasn’t good at this.” Ansel’s eyes were still closed, face red except for the dark eye. “You kept pushing.”

He ignored the catch in Ansel’s voice. “It’s my fault? Seriously?”

“I’m sorry. You deserve better.” God that sounded so much like what all his girlfriends would say when they finally cut him loose, it almost made Fitch sick. For the first time in his life he was being dumped before he wanted to be. And fuck, it hurt.

This was why he’d never made the first move, never ended a relationship. He’d never had the temperament to hurt someone like this. Always feared causing anyone pain. This is what he got for being a good guy? Fuck. He couldn’t breathe with the sting of it and it pissed him off.

“I’m not good for you,” Ansel whispered. “Go find a sweet girl, marry her, make babies. Your mom would be so fucking happy.”

“Leave my mother out of this,” Fitch shouted. The volume surprised him and he took a deep breath. “Just...wait a minute.” He took a step back and sucked in air that seemed too warm, too sticky. He’d promised himself he could let Ansel go, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt so fucking much. He needed to take a moment to think.

But, like he’d simply been waiting for a chance, Ansel gripped the door handle. “There’s nothing to wait for,” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s over, Fitch.” A shaky breath and then, “We both knew it couldn’t last.”

Without looking back, Ansel slipped back into the apartment and shut the door.

* * *

Ansel pressed his forehead to the solid wood, his hand shaking on the lock he’d just flipped closed. He could feel Fitch on the other side of the barrier and the struggle to remain still took all his concentration. His body vibrated with the urge to go to him. To apologize. To beg forgiveness.

God, it hurt.

It hurt so fucking bad.

So much worse than he’d imagined.

His stomach cramped and twisted, his head pounded, even his fucking toes ached. His chest tightened enough to make breathing difficult. It could be the hangover. Probably not.

No, this felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. Even though he’d known it was coming, there was no way he could protect himself. Fitch’s retreating footsteps sounded through the thin door and Ansel squeezed the handle. He could turn it, run after him. But what would he say? There was no excuse for what he’d done. Everything he’d said was the truth.

Fitch did deserve better.

He deserved picket fences and simple days.

He deserved to love someone who was clean and shiny and bright.

Ansel was none of those things.

He didn’t want to cry with his friends still here. Things were bad enough already.

He hadn’t acknowledged, even to himself, how much he’d wanted the relationship to work. Until this moment he’d honestly believed he was content without hope. Oh, how very wrong he’d been. He’d had hope, it was just disguised as something else, something slippery and unnameable. But after today, after seeing the look on Fitch’s face, there was no faith left, no wishing for a brighter future.

There was no getting over this one, no moving on with his life like nothing had changed. Everything had changed, and all because of one man.

He didn’t have it in him to pretend any longer. He was worn out.

Broken into tiny pieces that would never fit again.

There was no way he’d keep it together if he returned to his friends. They had blessedly given him privacy for the exchange, but were surely waiting to interrogate him. He didn’t have the strength for that right now. He needed to be alone. He needed the darkness.

Silently, he shuffled to his room. The lights were off, but the sun filtered through the unwashed windows. He shut the door behind him and crawled onto the bed. He wanted so badly to regain some of the numbness from the night before.

There were three opened bottles of alcohol in the apartment. He knew exactly how much was in each one. But he was too aware of the disaster he’d made of his life to lose himself again so soon.

In lieu of oblivion, he curled into a ball, closed his eyes, and faced the storm of emotions.

The first tide of anguish broke the dam, and tears cascaded down his face.

He wept for never seeing his brother again and for failing Fitch. He grieved for his childhood and losing Ray. He cried for it all.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next afternoon Ansel went to the club early and found Castor behind his desk.

“Christ.” Castor balled his fist and leaned back in his chair. “What the hell happened to you?”

Ansel steeled his spine. He knew he looked like shit. He didn’t feel that great either, but this needed to be done. “Had some trouble.”

“Damn it. No one is going to want to pay to see that shit.”

“I’ll cover it with makeup.”

Castor scoffed. “You’ll need a fucking truckload.”

“Do you want me to dance or not?”

Castor let out a frustrated groan. “Yes. You dance, and you’d better make it good or I might decide to—”

“No. Don’t you dare threaten Tam again.”

The scowl that transformed Castor’s face might have been comical if Ansel wasn’t pumped full of adrenaline and hanging on to his temper by a fingernail. “Are you giving me attitude?”

“You want to punish someone for last night, punish me. I was the one who flaked out. You’re going to pay the others what they are owed and leave Tam alone.”

“Or else what?” Castor’s eyebrow rose in challenge.

“This is not a threat. I’m not you. I don’t bully people into doing things.”

“What is it then?”

“A negotiation.”

Castor’s laugh was scornful and amused. It was an odd mix that made Ansel’s skin crawl.

“What exactly are you offering in this
negotiation
?”

“I’ll dance the whole week and you won’t have to pay me a cent.”

Castor seemed to consider this for a moment. His eyes rolled to the side and his lips thinned in thought. “Counter offer, make it two weeks and I get to fuck you.”

Ansel snarled. “My ass is not for sale.”

There was that weird laugh again. Ansel shuddered.

“Okay, fine. Three weeks without pay,” Castor said.

“You’ll leave Tam alone and you’ll pay the boys what they are owed?”

Castor waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Fine.”

“Deal.”

The grin that spread across Castor’s face was one of pure satisfaction.

Twenty minutes later, Lirim, Tam and Z arrived. They didn’t speak to him as they dropped their bags in the dressing room and started setting up for rehearsal. But Tam did squeeze his shoulder when he walked by, and that little gesture flooded him with relief.

They worked on one of their older routines, tightening up the timing and adding newer, more complicated steps in places that needed a boost. The atmosphere was heavy with things unsaid and pain still unforgiven. Ansel didn’t know how to make it better.

And apparently, neither did the rest of them.

About an hour into rehearsal though, Castor came out with three envelopes, met Ansel’s eyes with a smirk, and tossed them on the stage. Without a word, he went back to his office leaving the boys looking at Ansel in question.

Tam was the first to pick his up and his mouth dropped open when he saw its contents.

“What did you do?” Tam asked.

Ansel turned away, he didn’t want them to see through him. He didn’t want them to know how much he’d sacrificed. “I made it right.”

* * *

Monday evening Ansel came home to find the apartment filled with boxes. He dropped his bag near the door. It was too soon to start packing. He was still trying to change Mr. Policek’s mind, and even if he couldn’t, they hadn’t yet found another place to live.

“What’s going on?” he asked Ange, who was carrying another container out of her room. She dropped it on top of the counter and sighed.

“I’m moving out.”

“What do you mean? We don’t have anywhere to go.”

Ange pushed her sweat-matted hair off her face and looked at the floor. “I’m moving in with a coworker.”

Her reply was the last thing he’d expected. “Ange.” He took a step toward her.

“It’s been a long time coming, I should have moved as soon as I got the assignment in Brooklyn.” She shook her head. “I just...I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’m sorry, I fucked up. I know I did.”

“Yeah, but I’m not leaving to punish you. It’s the best choice for me.”

“Being away from me is the best choice? We’re family.” How could this be happening? Ange was like his sister. They’d lived together for years and now she was going to leave him alone? It was like losing his brother all over again, like losing Ray...and Fitch.

She turned to face him, her hip resting on the island separating the kitchenette from the rest of the room. “No, don’t twist my words. You know I love you. But Kelly offered me a room when I first started. She lives real close to the hospital so it will be so much easier to get to work.”

“If you need to be closer to work, fine. We’ll find a place together.” He tightened his arms around his middle, fighting the tremble that had taken over his body.

She shook her head and fiddled with an imperfection in the laminated countertop. “You need to be here, close to the club, your job. It would be just as bad for you to trek all the way to Brooklyn and back every day.”

“I don’t care. I would do it.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up even as her chin wobbled. “I know you would. You’re the best, truly. I love you.”

“Then why are you leaving?” His voice was thick with emotion he didn’t try to hide.

Ange took a deep breath, swallowed, but didn’t look at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He scrubbed his face, not caring that he smeared his makeup. “God, I’m sorry, I was a fucking idiot.”

“I don’t want to worry about finding you sick or injured or—” She broke off and he knew she was remembering Ray.

“Ange.” He hugged her while she shook.

“One day he was there and the next he wasn’t. It was like I was going through the same fucking thing with you. I can’t do it again. I need to stay focused.”

He didn’t reply. The knife in his heart had sliced open his throat and he was bleeding on the inside.

“I’m not Ray,” he finally choked out. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

He felt the shake of her head. “No, but you’ve got a problem, just like he did. You may not do it intentionally, but you live so violently. I worry about you every day.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“I can’t stop myself. You need help, real help.”

“I’m fine.”

She pulled away, face scrunched in anger. “You are not fine. I know something happened to you, something you haven’t told anyone. You think I can’t tell when something is bothering you?” She pushed his shoulders and stormed down the hall.

“Ange.” He followed.

She spun. “I’m moving out, Ansel, but I will never stop caring. I love you too fucking much.”

He stopped. “I love you too.”

“I know. You love me. You love Z, you love Lirim, you love Tam, you loved Ray. I even thought you might start to love the guy you were seeing—but you don’t love yourself.”