“Ah, well, good-bye, big guy. Be good for Mrs. Simpson. And don’t eat the little yapper. I think Mrs. Simpson would be kinda sad if you did, so it’s probably better to stick to your kibble.”
Mrs. Simpson cleared her throat. Devon looked up from watching the big dog push into his touches. Meeting the twinkle in Mrs. Simpson’s faded blue of her eyes he noted how her lips were also curled up just a hair at the corners. Betsy groaned and bumped his big body against him as he pushed closer to Devon. Shooting a startled glance up at her, he cringed a little. Oh, he really hoped he hadn’t stolen her dog’s affections.
She shook her head, patting him gently on his parka covered arm. “Devon, I don’t think you need to worry about Betsy and me. I hold the keys to the kibble, the rawhide bones, and the cupboard where the L-E-A-S-H-E-S are kept. I think we’ll muddle along tolerably well. However, I do think you’ve kept Michael waiting long enough, don’t you?”
Devon supposed he really had. “Um, okay. And thanks. For—you know, for everything.”
Mrs. Simpson’s smile grew a little wider. “Thank me by turning up on Thursday.”
Devon nodded. Yeah, he could do that. With a last pat to Betsy’s soft ears, he shifted the cookies and drinks into a more manageable arrangement. Then he nodded to Mrs. Simpson and started down the stairs. At the first landing, he turned and stood for a moment, eyeing Adrien’s door. Yeah, he could go to counseling to have a chance at being the kind of man Adrien deserved. The one crystal clear thing he’d taken away from the neatly surgical emotional evisceration he’d just undergone was the clear knowledge that he wanted Adrien. He wanted to fuck him, sure… but he also wanted to keep him, for just as long as he could. Loping down the stairs two at a time, Devon suddenly felt dizzy. He paused, tucking the cookies back under his arm and pressing one hand against a creamy stucco wall to steady himself.
“Mierda. I really want to keep him forever.”
As soon as he gave voice to thought, the brutal pressure squeezing the air out of his chest and filling the space behind his eyes eased off. He stood up straight, lifting his hand from the wall and continuing down the stairs. Opening the door to the outside, Devon sniffed at the wash of cold air. Rose sat right out front as promised. Devon’s jeep gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine. Devon grinned, motioning for Rose to stay behind the wheel as he slipped into the passenger’s side.
Rose slanted a frankly appraising look at him. Devon grinned back at him, speaking the only words that meant anything.
“I fucked up, but I’m gonna make it right. I wanna keep him forever, and forever means fixing things when you fuck up.”
Rose frowned, shaking his longish bangs out of his eyes. “Sarge, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Devon’s blood sang. His whole body felt filled with effervescent bubbles. “I tried to make him stay in so he’d be safe, and he told me to fuck off. I got mad and shook him—just trying to shake some sense into him, you know? So, anyway—he’s a scrappy little thing. Knocked my hands right off him and told me to get the fuck out. Said if I wanted a chance with him I was to come to the party tonight, in costume, and be polite to him.”
Rose blinked at him. “And what are you planning to do?”
Devon handed Rose his sweet smelling coco and the smiling snowman tin of cookies. “Here, Mrs. Simpson said those are for you. What am I gonna do? I’m going to find a costume for tonight, of course. He said come in costume, quote-because it’s a fucking costume Christmas party-end quote.”
Rose snorted. He took a sip of his coco, winced, and set the cup in the cup holder. “Damn that’s hot. Catherine Marie thinks everyone has an asbestos tongue like her… shit. Okay yeah, the Twinks are throwing a costume party this year for Christmas. At their Halloween party Andy got a bee in his bonnet about how they should have more costume wearing fun during the rest of the year, and the whole Glitter Crew jumped on the bandwagon.”
Devon frowned at him. “Glitter Crew?”
Rose shrugged, a half smile tipping up one side of his wide mouth as he eased the Jeep smoothly into first gear. “Eh, you know we were all part of the Gay-Straight Alliance group in our high school, right?”
Devon nodded, noting the easy way Rose handled the Jeep. He really shouldn’t be surprised at how easy it was to let Rose drive. The man had driven for their company’s lieutenant during the last deployment, and he, Devon and the officer had spent a lot of time together riding to and from various meetings. Invariably on those trips, Devon ended up pulling security while Rose drove.
Rose paused as he came to the mouth of the driveway. Paying close attention to the cars zipping up and down Genesee Street, he whipped the Jeep out into the first available opening. Once they were in the flow of traffic and headed back towards Rose’s place, he continued. “So there were… let me see… eight of the guys who were always getting picked on, as far back as middle school. They were really why Mama Jimenez and I started the school’s chapter of the Gay-Straight Alliance. But what we didn’t know was that even before we started that, they were kinda watching out for each other.”
Devon turned to rest one shoulder against the passenger side door. “Go on. What did they do?”
Rose chuckled, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to push his bangs back from his forehead. Devon bit his tongue to keep from suggesting Rose get a real haircut and stop sporting the Justin Bieber hair-do he presently wore. Rose’s voice broke into his musings. Laughter threaded through his words.
“They had this whole code worked out for what they called Glitter Alerts.”
A bright yellow sports car cut them off, and Rose broke off for a moment to curse them out in two different languages. Huh. Devon hadn’t realized Rose swore so fluently in Arabic. Rose maneuvered the Jeep quickly around the offending vehicle before continuing his story about Adrien and his friends.
“Yeah, so anyway, they had a code for freaking damn near every single thing you could think of, all broken down in to colors and levels of glitter. Most of the average idiots at our school never figured out what the Twinks were up to. They just went on thinking they were all especially gay little gay-boys, and writing them off. But Adrien and his Twinks protected more marginalized high school kids than ever knew about it, and all without ever breaking one of their pretty little nails. Well, except for Adrien, of course. He was always klutzy.”
Devon settled properly back into his seat, adjusting the safety belt over his chest. He watched the scenery go by for a moment, half his brain busy being fascinated by the old headstones of the cemetery they were passing. “Glitter Alerts?”
Rose snorted. “Yeah, Sarge. Color, level—I guess they’re kind of like Threat-Con levels for the military, but way more complex. They worked out a way to get appropriate help for every bullying situation they’d ever faced or heard about someone else getting caught up in. Adrien and Sam would have these marathon planning sessions where they strategized about how to help the kids who didn’t know how to ask for help.”
Devon tried to pin a name on the sudden welling of warmth in his chest. After a few seconds, he realized it was pride. “Damn. That’s—damn. Just damn. No wonder he was so pissed.”
Rose nodded. “Yup. You fucked up big time, Sarge. If I’d known you were gonna go all Man-Of-The-House on him I’d have warned you. I just figured you were smarter than that.”
Devon cut his eyes over to catch Rose smirking at him. “Fuck you, cabron. Fuck. You. One day someone’s gonna get your balls in a twist and you’ll be just as stupid as the rest of us.”
This time, when Rose laughed, the sound was a little thinner than before. Devon searched his face for clues, but Rose kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road in front of him, and his face perfectly neutral.
Huh.
Perhaps Rose had already met up with his ball twister after all.
Adrien smiled at the bubbly young girl until his jaw began to ache. She really was exactly like Benji… big heart, big bubble butt, big gorgeous eyes. Dear God in Heaven, they were so going to have to learn kung-fu or something before she got old enough to date. Missy beamed up at him, batting her long lashes and placing one slender hand on his bicep.
The way her voice went up on the end of each sentence almost caused him to miss the poison pill buried in her endless chatter.
“Whoa, wait up a second. What? You have a date?” Adrien swung around to find Benji watching his sister with an open mouth and a rapidly paling face. Okay, score one for Benji. Clearly he hadn’t known about this madness.
Adrien nodded. Yep. Missy going on a date was definite Rainbow Glitter fodder. Rainbow was reserved for National emergencies and younger siblings starting to date. Or basically, anything where someone was in imminent danger of death.
“Are you sure a level five is high enough? Cause, you know, we could add another level. I mean, look at her Benji. She’s like, cover model beautiful. Do you know this Wilkins kid?”
Missy huffed, flipping her pony-tail off her shoulder with an exaggerated head toss. Popping her spearmint chewing gum loudly, she stuck out here chin.
“You are not going to ruin my first date. Mom promised. Plus, if you don’t promise to be nice, I’ll go out with him before that. He’s old enough to drive, almost. He’ll have his learner’s permit by February, and we could go anywhere.”
Her sky blue eyes narrowed, and she put both slim hands on her still narrow hips. Adrien took a step back. It was dangerous when his mother did that. He smacked the back of Benji’s arm.
“Benji, come on. We still gotta get me fixed up and get to the party.”
Benji glared at his little sister. “This is not over, Missy. You and I will have words later, you understand me?”
Missy gave him a long, cool stare. “Sure, big bro. Whatevs.” Then she flounced into her room, her blond and brown streaked ponytail bouncing jauntily behind her.
Adrien expected her to slam her door, but she didn’t. She somehow managed to flounce that shut too. Squinting one eye half shut, he regarded the Bieber posters she’d plastered all over the front of her door. Well, at least the girl had good taste.
Markus poked his head out of the kitchen, and finding the coast clear, ambled fully into the hallway with another half-eaten piece of fruit in his hand. This time he had a Bartlett pear. The guy was a total fiend for fruit.
“Dude, you are brave. When my sister hits thirteen, I’m gonna move out of state. And only come home for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. My heart wouldn’t be able to take the strain. And Chelsea isn’t even as pretty as Missy.” He pushed his stylish black half glasses up his nose as he spoke.
Adrien clutched Missy’s silly ribbon and wire diadem in his hand. He was relieved that Benji’s parents weren’t home. He could just imagine Benji trying to tell his tall, imposing Norse Goddess of a mother that he forbade his sister going on a date. Crap-doodly, pretty peacock feathers would fly all over their McMansion as soon as the words left Benji’s mouth. Olga would tilt her head regally at her shorter, stocky husband, and he would jump to chastise Benji.
“Um… Benji… are your folks going to be home soon. I know Missy is old enough to stay on her own for a while, but.”
Benji eyed him gratefully. “They should be here before seven. You guys cool with hanging out here until they get home? I’d feel weird leaving her here on her own, now that I know about her little boyfriend.” He shrugged.
Markus shook his head. “Naw. Wanna order a pizza? What’s Missy like on hers?” Markus strolled back towards Missy’s room. “Heya, Princess Missy, whatcha want on your pizza, beautiful?”
Missy came flying out of her room, all smiles again. “Markus! Those two lame-brains didn’t tell me you were here, too…” She paused to stick her tongue out at Adrien and Benji. “Let’s get Hawaiian. I love pineapple and ham together. Oooh, you’re dressed up as the Doctor! That’s so cool. Oh, oh, I get it. Alias Smith and Jones, right? That’s really clever, Markus.”
Adrien wrinkled his nose, but kept his mouth shut about what he really thought of pineapples or any sort of fruit on pizza. Markus saw him though, giving him a sly wink over Missy’s head.
“Eh, how about we get two. Let’s order a pineapple and ham for my princess here and a pepperoni for the more traditional pizza eaters of group, yeah? My treat tonight… tips were good at the restaurant.”
Rose shifted in the driver’s seat, his shoulders tensing. “Yeah I am. There were some guys hassling him last week, and now, with Adrien fired, he’ll be short an elf. Which means he’s gonna have to do double duty tonight, working as an elf while he’s the manager on duty. If those rude fuckers show up, I don’t want him to have to face them down in those damn elf-a-go-go shorts he picked out for all the elves.”
Devon cracked up. “I thought Adrien was the only one who called them elf-a-go-go shorts?”
Rose chuckled and his shoulders eased down a fraction. “Nah, most of us have heard him muttering that phrase enough that we all call them that when he’s not around. We just like to let him think he’s the only one who thinks the shorts are… well, pretty much every young gay boy’s fantasy of what he’d find at the North Pole.”
Devon snorted. “You guys talked about this when you were younger, didn’t you?”
Rose shot him a sly look. “Of course we did. The elves’ costumes before Andy took over were truly hideous, and we saw them every single year. We couldn’t help but talk about them.”
Pulling up next to a beat-up old Chevy Nova, Rose put the Jeep into park and left the engine running. “Well, I’m gonna work on his car for a bit while he’s inside and can’t stop me. It’s been running pretty rough, and he refuses to let me loan him the money to replace the engine. So I sneak in a little work on it here and there.”
Devon blinked at Rose. “Heh. Now who’s the stalker?”
Rose glared at him. “Fucking. Dick.”
Devon just laughed, released his seatbelt, and opened the passenger side door. “Hey, I admit I’m a little twitchy on the subject right now, but if he says no, doesn’t that still mean no, cabron?”
Rose got out, scooped up a handful of snow from the roof of Andy’s car and flung it at Devon. “Screw you, Sarge. Go get your costume. Tell Dieterman I said hi. I’ll have to catch up with him while he’s here.”
Devon slid into the driver’s side of the Jeep. “Will do. Tell Andy I’ll be at his party, okay? I just gotta go find the right costume and get Dieterman settled first.”
Rose muttered something affirmative, but Devon had stopped paying attention. His focus shifted to how he was going to get a Robin Hood outfit thrown together in the limited amount of time he had. With Adrien going as Maid Marian, he had to be Robin Hood. Hmm. He had some leggings for running in the winter that would work for the bottom of the outfit, but he needed one of those hats, a bow and arrow set, and some kind of leather jerkin. Hmm. Maybe the guys at Down Under Leather would have something. Or know of someone who did. He slowed down, easing the Jeep into a parking spot only six rows over from where Rose was already busily working under the hood of Andy’s beat to shit old car. Devon would bet good money that Rose was planning on just rebuilding the Nova’s engine piecemeal, and hoping that Andy didn’t notice.
He put the Jeep into park—he was gonna have to rename her. He just couldn’t call the dog and his Jeep by the same name… maybe he could call her Mary Sue? Nah. He jumped out of the vehicle. Walking back over to where Rose was working on Andy’s car to borrow his phone would give him a minute to straighten his thoughts out. Yeah. As he turned away from locking the doors, he bumped into a fortyish looking woman with wildly curly hair. She yelped, nearly dropping the cell phone in her hand. Devon spied the little PFLAG button on her coat, and figured and broke into a grin.
“Excuse me, ma’am… could I possibly borrow your phone to make a call? I just got into a fight with my boyfriend and left my phone at his place...” Devon deliberately let his voice trail off as he gave her his best contrite look, dipping his head down and looking at her through his lashes.
The woman chuckled, the sound filling the space