Bowl Full of Cherries (28 page)

Quietly, Crowley said into the phone, “I’m sorry, James. Could you give me a second? Averell wants to speak to you.”

Gently, Crowley placed the cell in Rell’s hand and pressed his lips together.

“I’ve got a business deal,” Crowley said sternly. “Please don’t ruin it.”

Rell sat up and raised the phone to his ear. “James?”

“Guess who I got a text message from this morning?”

“Uh….”

“It came from
your
number. But it wasn’t you. He said he was your
boyfriend
?” James said, by way of greeting. “Forget to tell me something when you called? Or when I picked you up? Or, you know, any time in the last ten years?”

“Sorry, it’s sort of new and… I had other things on my mind.” Namely, how to get James to buy the Sun Queen figure and give him the money he needed to start his business. A transaction he had a very strong feeling Crowley was now trying to undo.

“You’re a jackass, you know that? Next time you’re on a mountain and some teenagers steal your shit, don’t call me to drive your ass home.”

“Look, if it makes any difference, you’re the first friend who knows.”

“Doesn’t make any difference,” James sniffed hard. “What do you want, Rell? Crowley and I were talking business.”

“That’s exactly what I thought. Don’t sell him the fig, James. I don’t care what he offers you.”

“Averell!” Crowley cried, grabbing at the phone, but Rell was quick and without dropping the call, he used his free arm to grab Crowley and pin him to the bed. Then he smiled down at his face, telling Crowley, and not so much James:

“I sold you the Sun Queen, James, ’cause I wanted Crowley to know that I’m serious about him.”

Crowley shook his head quickly.

“Okay, but he’s offering a
lot
of money and—”

“And if Crowley buys it from you, he’s pretty much paying for me to come to Avona and start my business. Because then I get my figure back and….
What
?”

Crowley grinned up at him, and he looked positively wicked. It gave Rell half wood. “Who said
anything
about giving the figure back, Lang?”

Rell raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to keep her?”

“Who are you talking to?” James sighed heavily into the phone, his patience thinning like his hair. “Me or him?”

“Crowley. Give me a sec.”

“Okay,” Crowley said.

“No, sweetheart, I’m telling James that I’m talking to you.”
Sweetheart
. It had slipped out so easily. If Crowley’s grin was any indication, he was fine with the endearment. “C’mon, you’re really not going to give her to me?”

Crowley stretched up and kissed Rell lovingly on the lips. “Well, I might be willing to
share
her with you. And if you want, you can use her as the mascot for Owl’s Customs.” He put his mouth right near the phone against Rell’s face and then said, “If you’re selling, James, I’m buying.”

“Are you sure?” Rell asked, after Crowley had ended the call. “How are you going to pay for this?” James had offered Rell enough for the figure that he could buy a whole new army, paint it, flip it, and buy two more with the profits. Rinse and repeat. Or in this case, paint and repeat.

“How I’m paying for it is between me, James, and my rainy day fund.”

R
ELL
GRABBED
Crowley and pulled him down into the bed, snuggling up against him. He was lightly nipping at his ear, “punishing” him for his underhanded dealings. Crowley’s grin was evidence the punishment was having the exact desired effect.

“What did you think about those pictures Sondra sent?”

“Loved ’em,” Crowley groaned, pressing back into Rell, running his foot down Rell’s leg.

“Me too,” Rell said, running the tip of his tongue over the edge of Crowley’s ear. “I used them.”

“You
didn’t
.”

“Pretty sure I did,” Rell said. “One in particular. One Sondra sent me special.”

Crowley froze and cut his eyes back at Rell. “What?”

“Look.” Another light nip, and Rell swiped his phone open again, clicking into nested folders where he’d hidden his own little bit of eye-candy. The photo of him and Crowley.

“Oh my God….”

“Gorgeous.”

“Is this… is she putting this up on the website?”

“Don’t think so,” Rell said quietly. “I think she wanted to give it to us as a present. Now that I’ve got you in my arms, I guess I can share it.”

Crowley turned and kissed Rell, smiling against his lips.

“You’re going to have to let me take pictures of you.”

“Right now? I can get so naked. You can go crazy with your camera phone.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Hell yes.” Rell smiled, reaching under the covers and pulling down his boxers. “Just direct me and I’ll pose for you.” Without being told, he got up on his knees, totally nude from the waist to the knees where the elastic band of his boxers was stretched taut. Crowley just stared and then he smiled.

“You’re serious.”

“Absolutely, sweetheart.”

Crowley reached for his own phone, which was on the floor near the couch bed—their little kingdom. He held the phone up and smiled as he snapped a shot.

“What do you want me to do?”

“What do you want to do?” Crowley asked.

“I want to give you a photo that makes you as crazy as your pictures make me.”

“Okay,” Crowley said, grinning and biting his lip. “Then… go to the window. The light’s better over there.”

W
HEN
T
YLER
Lang wandered out of the bedroom later that day, he found the two of them twisted up in the blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms, snoozing quietly. He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Yup. Goddamn Christmas miracle.”

Tyler Lang, Two Weeks Earlier…

“I….” T
YLER
Lang looked down at the Christmas card in his hand. On the front was a reindeer flanked by two penguins in Santa hats. Inside was a gift card to Target for thirty dollars.
Target
, of all the stores in the world.

“I was afraid I wasn’t going to get it to you in time.” David Griffith swept his hand through his short dark hair and smiled with insultingly white teeth. “I know you’re going home for Christmas and—”

“How do you know that?” Tyler asked, eyes glued to the card in his hand. His fingers were covered in glitter.

“Facebook. You should be more careful about putting stuff like that up there, dude. People can be creepy.”

“Uh, sure,” Tyler mumbled, trying not to read the cheesy poem in the middle of the mass-produced card. It wasn’t even post-consumer recycled. Tyler’s eyes caught the words that practically danced in their cheery font, and he quickly lost his battle with the poem. It was so bad it made his skin crawl.

My thoughts are with you this winter season,

Through caroling, presents and snow,

Your smiling face is exactly the reason,

You’re my favorite person to know.

E. E. Cummings, it was not. And David had actually underlined the word favorite twice in red pen before signing it. Tyler looked up at him and grimaced.

“I know you like, uh, scarves and stuff. And a couple of weeks ago my sister and I were at the store and we saw, actually, that one you’re wearing right now.”

Tyler nodded dumbly and fingered the diamond pattern, hand-crocheted, Alpaca, upcycled scarf he’d bought at Renew For You, slowly pulling it off his neck. Jesus. Did everyone think he’d got it at a big box store? He kept his eyes on David as he tried to shove the tainted scarf into his bag. “And there were some hats, too. Like that dude’s.” He motioned toward DJ Raiz Altevez, whom Tyler knew from the club scene.

Raiz tipped his porkpie hat at the both of them as he sauntered past.

God, did he know? Did Raiz know that his signature hat was available at Target? Tyler should warn him, but discreetly. He didn’t want to embarrass the guy.

“And I thought it might be something you’d like. But what if I was wrong? I don’t know what’s cool right now in fashion.” David motioned to his heavy boots, faded jeans, and threadbare T-shirt that clung just enough so that anyone who looked could see the hours and hours and
hours
he spent at the gym. He was wearing a probably-real leather jacket and Tyler bit his lip. “So I just got the gift card instead.”

“Thank you,” Tyler tried again, the words sticking in his throat and almost choking him. His mind raced through his list of contacts as he tried to imagine who he could sell the gift card to. Hell, or
give
it to even. He didn’t have a single friend who would want or appreciate the gift card. Well, maybe Crowley, but that was because Crowley was too damn nice and appreciated everything. Maybe he could give it to Averell as his Christmas present. Tyler’s twin would definitely shop at Target.

“So… uh… you want to get dinner sometime?”

Tyler blinked at David, not quite sure he comprehended. “Like… in the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, or down at Buster’s after the game on Saturday? A whole bunch of us are going, and I thought you might like to come too.”

“To a… football party?”

“Hockey.” David smiled and Tyler stared, trying to think what he knew about hockey. Sticks and fistfights, that was all he could come up with. The thought of being trapped at Buster’s on a Saturday night with a bunch of sweaty jocks yelling about sports made his palms go cold.

“That’s kind of crowded for my taste.” Tyler Lang was done being nice. He didn’t even really know David. Sure, they’d worked together on that project in poli-sci during Tyler’s last semester of undergrad, but that had been two years ago and it wasn’t like it went past that. For some reason, though, every time he saw Tyler in the hall, David walked straight up to him as if they were friends and there weren’t this whole social divide between them. They didn’t have a thing in common, which made talking unbearable.

One time, David had asked if he’d heard the new Chevelle. Tyler had bristled.

“I don’t listen to anything that’s on a mainstream record label,” he’d said, insulted that David would think such a thing about him. He’d followed Wendy Windhelm and the Fire Five for years until she’d sold out to Sony. He refused to listen to the album, even when others said it was her most innovative yet. When Sony dropped her, he picked up her next record. But Chevelle? No. Not a chance in hell.

“You should give it a listen. It’s really good. I mean, in a sort of status quo way. It’s Chevelle, they stick to what works. It’s got a little bit of a different sound than their last album, but y’know, it’s not a wild departure.” David had smiled before heading to whatever remedial class he was probably enrolled in and Tyler went to hold tutoring hours.

Now they were alone in the mostly deserted hallway and David’s bright green eyes were dancing. Why were they dancing? Tyler turned to see if someone else had approached them, someone who could make his (grudgingly admitted) beautiful eyes dance. Tyler didn’t know what he could have said or done to make David suddenly so excited. But then again, the man was like an overgrown puppy. Excitement was his middle name.

After finding no one approaching, Tyler turned back. David was grinning a sappy grin and he said, “I’m really glad you feel the same way.”

“Same way?” Tyler asked. What way did he feel? Because right then, all he felt was uncomfortable. And he had a freaking Chevelle chorus stuck in his head. When had he heard the song? And Jumpin’ Jesus on a pogo stick, why was it such a catchy tune?

“You should come by the dorms,” David insisted, light patches of color staining his cheeks. “I’ve got the tree set up and everything and we’ll order in and hang out, y’know, just you and me. What sort of food do you like? Beer and burgers? Or, wait, you’re pretty conscientious. Do you not like meat?”

“I like meat.” Tyler had started to unravel the mystery of David’s words. Through some cataclysmic misunderstanding (namely that Tyler Lang was in any way, shape, or form
interested)
David had not only asked him out, he was now
planning
the date. A date-type date. Suddenly Tyler’s
I like meat
sounded almost pornographic in the context of this conversation. Tyler quickly corrected. “I eat meat. I mean, burgers are fine!” And then in another second he realized in his rush to not give David the impression that he went down on dudes, he’d agreed to dinner, alone, in David’s dorm room where apparently there was a tree and… solitude. That was pretty much giving him the impression he went down on guys, right?

Tyler swallowed and licked at his lips. How to get out of this? The only thing he could think was: walk away. Turn in his Hush Puppies and walk the hell away. But David was smiling again, delighted, and Tyler stilled, his eyes unconsciously tracing the edges of David’s lips.

“All right, tonight.” David nodded. “7:30, I’ll get everything together. Just bring yourself. I….” He floundered for words for a moment, and then said with that same blinding smile, “Hot damn!” Who said that? Who said that without being ironic? “You’ve got no idea, I’ve been so worried about this. Here, feel my heart.”

He grabbed Tyler’s wrist and yanked him so that his palm splayed flat against David’s chest. His heart might have been beating crazy, Tyler couldn’t tell through his own racing pulse and the… spectacular… feel of David’s muscles beneath his hand.

“You must work out.”

It was the sort of thing he’d said to mock jocks before—usually to their faces. The sort of thing he said with a sneer and the taste of a PBR cocktail on his lips. It was a comeback when someone said something idiotic about evolution or women’s reproductive rights. He’d never said it like this before. The earnestness with which it left his lips made Tyler hate himself just a little bit. He yanked back his hand. David was still smiling.