A Shadow of Wings (17 page)

“They’re good people.” Dylan sat back and rested his arm behind Cam along the back of the couch. “Believe it or not, I met Joey during a karaoke night at a bar.”

“Do you sing?” Cam asked with interest.

“Get me drunk enough, I’ll do just about anything.”

“Hmm.”

Joey loped back in with a cigar box in one hand and a scuffed acoustic guitar in the other. “I got the good stuff here.”

Dylan raised his hand. “None for me, thanks.”

“Nah?” Joey set down his guitar and sat in a rocking chair across from the couch, the cigar box on his knee. “You’re really doing okay, huh? Staying straight. I admire that, dude, totally.” He took out a few items Cam recognized only from TV shows as wrapping paper—no, rolling paper, right?—and a bag of weed. With expert fingers, the shaggy-haired man began to assemble a joint.

Feeling awkward in the silence, Cam said, “So, you play the guitar?”

Joey had the friendly, open face of a faithful hound, and he canted his brown eyes up to Cam with a grin. “Yup. You? Your boy there used to play, you know.”

“Did you?” Cam glanced at Dylan, who shook his head.

“I learned in the high school band. I couldn’t do half the shit Joey can.”

“I can’t play anything,” Cam said somewhat wistfully. It was something he’d always wanted to learn, but Tash had discouraged him, saying it was impractical to travel with a bulky musical instrument, and it was just one more distraction from whatever mission they were on. “It must be a wonderful talent to have.”

“It don’t suck,” Joey said philosophically, then lit the joint—or was it a blunt?—took a drag, and closed his eyes in bliss. Having finally caged her spawn, Cora came back in, reached for the joint, and took a hit.

She held her breath for a bit, then let it out in a long plume. “Man, that kid has more energy than twenty of me.” She was a pretty girl, though life had left its stamp on her features. Her voice had a raspy tone, and she looked like she’d been around the block, as Tash would say, but still, in her bare feet and faded, flower-print summer dress, her long brown hair hanging loose about her face, she seemed younger than she probably was, and a fitting match for Joey, who was pierced and tattooed in more ways than Cam had thought possible.

“Finally get him to go down?” Joey said, pulling his guitar into his lap and tuning the strings.

“I think they’re giving him too much KoolAid or something at day care. He was one wound-up little pumpkin today. Hey, you guys want more beer? Wine? I got some cheap red open. Wanna help me finish it off?” She got up and headed for the kitchen before anyone replied, and Joey watched her go, his smile wreathed with affection for his girlfriend. 

Cam wondered why they weren’t married. But then, they didn’t seem too concerned with propriety. You could see that just from their little apartment. Kids’ finger paintings decorated the walls, along with some beaded macramé and a couple of half-dead plants on the windowsill. The furniture looked well used, and the carpet was stained but generally clean. Plenty of dust covered most surfaces, at least the ones that weren’t sticky with juice and torn crayon labels. 

After living on his guard and under scrutiny for so long, Cam felt like he could kick back here and be…whoever he wanted to be. He leaned into the sofa, feeling the welcome weight of Dylan’s arm on the cushion behind his shoulders. Best of all, they obviously didn’t care that he and Dylan were together, since neither blinked an eye when Dylan started casually playing with the ends of Cam’s hair and letting his fingers drift over his nape. 

This was nice, being among humans. Being among friends.

The weird scent of the pot drifted over to Cam. Joey held the joint out to him. “Dude?”

He was about to automatically refuse, when Dylan said, “Go on, if you want. It don’t bother me.”

“It’s good for glaucoma or whatever ails you,” Joey insisted, squinting amiably through the growing miasma. Of course, they’d told him Cam had eye problems, hence the dark glasses.

“I don’t… I-I don’t smoke,” he said quietly aside to Dylan, sort of wanting to try it, but…that was just so far out of his comfort zone. Not that there was any danger in it. Nothing short of unchaining his collar would turn him into a trice. And he didn’t want to be rude.

One side of his mouth curling with mischief, Dylan said, “You should try it. It’s not like we gotta go nowhere after, just home.”

Home. That had a nice ring to it. Joey said, “Hey, it’s chill, man. No worries.” He put the joint between his lips and sucked in a lungful.

Cam blurted, “I want to. I do. Okay. I’ll do it.”

Dylan slapped him on the back, grinning, then reached across to Joey and took the joint and handed it to Cam. “Fuck, I’ll probably have a contact high anyhow. Ehh, it sucks being on my best behavior,” he muttered, then said, “Okay, you just inhale, but you gotta hold it in for a few seconds. Right?”

With a slightly trembling hand, Cam took the joint and did as Dylan said. He nearly broke out in a coughing fit, felt his eyes watering behind his glasses, but held it in for a count of five, then hacked it out. Dylan took the joint back and gave it over to Cora, who’d come back in and handed Cam a jelly glass of red wine. He gulped it, nearly gagging on that too. 

They were having a laugh at his expense, but it was good-natured. He had to chuckle at himself. “Well, at least now I can say I tried it,” he said to Dylan, who cupped his chin in his hand and kissed him lightly.

Cora nudged his shoulder and handed him the joint. Again? He supposed this was how it was done. This time it went better, and the time after that, and then he found himself swapping it back and forth with Cora while Joey entertained them.

After about the fifth or sixth or who knew how many songs, he pointed at Joey, whose fingers were positively magic on the strings. He’d never heard the like. Cora sang along with him on some of the tunes, but Cam liked it best when he spun out the complicated riffs. 

“He’s really good,” he said to Dylan. “Like, seriously talented.” Somehow, Cam had slumped down farther and farther into the deep couch cushions, and now Dylan lay back against him, his warm, comfortable body cuddled against his side. 

“And you’re really buzzed, dude.” Dylan ran his hand up and down Cam’s thigh. “Feeling okay?”

“Mm-hm.” Kind of light and dizzy and happier than he’d been in a long, long time. Than ever.

“That’s good. That’s what I like to hear.”

“What?”

“That you’re happy.” Dylan smiled that beautiful smile. 

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, you did.”

Across the room, sitting at Joey’s feet, Cora swung the second wine bottle back and forth. “All gone, guys. Should I break out another one?”

“Nah, I think we better get going. It’s getting late.”

“What about Gertie?” Cam managed.

“I think she’s gonna be okay here.” 

Sure enough, the pit bull, who had taken to the kids like…like a duck to water, Cam thought, putting words together in his head like building blocks, lay on a blanket on the floor, on her back asleep with her legs up in the air.

“Shameless girl,” Cam muttered, then burst out laughing. He had no idea why that was so funny. It just was. 

“Yeah, I think that’s our cue.” Dylan shuffled upright but took Cam’s chin between his fingers and kissed his lips. Even though it went right to his cock, Cam couldn’t stop giggling. “Time for some fresh air for this one,” Dylan said with a roll of his eyes.

Joey stood up, leaning his guitar against the wall and helping Cora up, who kept smiling at Cam, and even that was funny. If she only knew what she was smiling at. Cam thought of her perceptive little son screaming
mawnster
and nearly choked himself laughing. 

“He is too cute,” she said, giving Dylan a hug. “You hang on to him. And bring him back. We’re having a little cookout on Sunday for Hannah’s birthday. You’re both welcome to come.”

“We’ll see,” Dylan said with a lift of his brow. He bumped fists with Joey, then gripped his forearm and pulled him in for a quick embrace and back slap. “Thanks for getting my boyfriend blitzed, man.”

“No problem, dude.”

“You sure you’re okay with the dog?”

Cora glanced over at Gertie. “I love her, and the kids did fine with her. Can we change her name, though?” she asked with an apologetic twist of her lips. 

“She’s your dog now. You do whatever you want. Just be good to her.”

“You know we will,” Joey said. He and Dylan walked to the door, which Cam supposed meant he should get up. Oh, he was up. When did that happen? Joey hugged him too, and Cora, and he thought, his heart overflowing with the milk of mawnster kindness, that he’d never met such wonderful people in his entire life.

Cora patted Cam on the cheek. “Nice meeting you, handsome. Keep an eye on this guy.” She lightly punched Dylan’s shoulder.

“It was so good to meet you too.” Cam took her hands in his and kissed the backs of them. “So good. Thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough. For everything.”

Dylan got between them and herded him out the door. “Come on, loverboy. You need some air.”

The smoke practically rolled out the door with them into the street before Joey waved good-bye and closed the door behind them, and they stood alone in the very quiet evening. 

“Deep breath in.” Dylan inhaled, lifting his hand in front of his chest, and Cam followed him. “And out.” Cam exhaled, and felt dizzy, and Dylan held him by the elbow until he steadied.

“Am I going to feel sick in the morning?” he asked as he began to truly appreciate how high he was. 

“Probably not. I mean, you chugged your fair share of wine, but that ain’t nothing. C’mon, you, let’s walk it off.”

With a little stagger in his step, Cam walked beside him, hands in pockets. “You’re so lucky to have such nice friends.”

“They are nice. I’m glad they liked Gertie.”

“They’re going to change her name, though.” That made him unspeakably sad, his emotions all wacky.

“As long as they feed her and love her, I don’t care.”

“But
we
named her.”

“We can name something else. That tree.” He pointed to one of the trees that grew out of the sidewalk, surrounded by a low black wrought-iron fence. “That tree is Gertie the Second.”

“You can’t name a tree Gertie. Don’t be daft.”

“Daft.” He chuckled. “You’re daft.”

“You know, I think I am.” Another fit of giggles surface but then faded, and he looked at Dylan, at the unkempt hair and scruffy chin with a charming dent in the center and the straight, strong nose. An almost painful rush of some foreign emotion welled in him. “You’re nice too.”

“Nah. Appearances deceive, my friend.” Scuffing along with his hands in the pockets of his hoody, Dylan seemed withdrawn. Cam stopped him with a hand on his arm, then pressed his spread fingers to his own chest.

“I know all about appearances. And deception.” He felt his jaw working and the words coming up his throat, the truth wanting to claw its way out, and he barely swallowed them back. “Nobody’s really who they…what they look like, are they?”

They started walking again, slowly. Truly, the streets were empty, and Cam began to wonder what time it was. Dylan said, “Not too many. We all got our dark secrets, I guess.”

“What are yours?” 

“If I told you—”

“They wouldn’t be secret.” Cam smirked. And then sorrow draped him again. How sad it was that the world had to work that way. “The brothers teach us that at one time, a long time ago, it wasn’t like that. That man and animals shared one mind and one soul, and it wasn’t until the fall in the Garden of Eden that we were divided from one another and broken into separate souls.”

“Is that right?” Dylan nudged Cam’s left hand out of his pocket and twined his fingers loosely through Cam’s.

“Yes. And at that time, there wasn’t any judgment. Or hatred, or warfare. Or secrets. Just harmony. They say, someday, we’ll have that again.” His brows furrowed. “But they don’t know when. We just have to keep waiting, and hoping. It’s a long time to wait. It’s why we all feel lonely. And separate.”

Dylan’s thumb stroked over the back of his hand. “Yeah, but we still got each other, right?”

Cam nodded, then with his free hand reached under glasses to wipe his eyes. “Now I feel like crying. Is this normal?”

“Normal’s relative. Problem is, I think you’ve been keeping so much down for so long, now you gave it an outlet, it all wants to come out.”

He sniffed. “Mm. Maybe.”

“Come here, baby.” Dylan stopped and pulled Cam against him, into his warm embrace, rocking him a little, kissing the side of his neck softly, as if they were the last two living creatures in the world. Cam clutched him hard. All this emotion, churning inside. He didn’t think he liked it. Was this what it was to be human, all the time battling with this inner turmoil? 

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Dylan murmured, and Cam believed him, because in his arms, it could only be so. He pressed his face against the phoenix tattoo on Dylan’s neck and breathed him in, never wanting to let go, never wanting to be that other thing he was.

He drew back so they could kiss. He liked the hard, aggressive kisses, but these, oh, sweet and lingering and full of feeling, these were the ones he’d die for. Like the songs said, like every kiss was a song. Oh shit yes, he was still high. He was getting maudlin and giggly at the most inappropriate moment. 

Fortunately, Dylan seemed to understand. He stroked the side of Cam’s face and said, “I wanna show you something. My favorite part of the city, and this time of night, it’s really beautiful because there ain’t no people around to spoil it.”

He followed at his side, hand in hand with him. “What time is it, anyhow?”

“I don’t know. One or two?”

Cam pulled out his cell phone. “Two it is. I had no idea.”

“Time flies.” He led Cam down what looked like a linear trail, a bike path that ran along the water, then farther until they reached a stone wall. Beyond that, the Housatonic River flowed, wide and flat in the moonlight. Even farther on, Cam could see boats faintly aglow in the harbor and occasional traffic lights on the other side.