Fierce & Fabulous (Sassy Boyz) (24 page)

Chapter Forty

Three days later Ansel was still debating Fitch’s offer. Hell, he thought about everything that had happened that day from the suit to the dinner, from being accepted by Fitch’s family to realizing he wanted his own happy ending—even if it was stupid.

On Monday, after work, Z had pestered him with questions. So many that they’d continued into rehearsal and spilled over to the others as well, until Lirim and Tam were interrogating him too.

Trouble was, he didn’t have any answers.

He was still reeling from it all.

Was he ready to go after something he wanted so much? Could he face the potential disaster if he failed?

That’s what he talked about during his AA meeting Tuesday afternoon. Afterward many of his fellow addicts came up to him and shared some of their experiences. Even Susan, who’d become a good friend, thought Fitch would be a good influence. They weren’t supposed to get into relationships until a year after sobriety, but this was different. He and Fitch had been together since before Ansel started AA, technically, and while they were together Ansel hadn’t had much desire to drink.

With their advice still in the back of his head, he rushed to Z’s apartment to change before their rehearsal. It started to rain, so on his way out the door he grabbed a hoodie and slipped it on. He had no idea where Z and his roommate kept the umbrellas.

He locked the front door and skipped down the steps, in a rush to catch the train.

“Miss Priss.” The shrill voice stopped him in his tracks.

He whipped his head around to see his parents standing on the sidewalk, their town car double-parked on the street. His father held a large black umbrella over both of them, but droplets had splattered up to cover his mother’s perfect cream pumps with muddy tracks.

Compared to them, he looked like a wet dog. A wet, dirty dog with perfect glossy lips and killer heels covered in metal spikes. He straightened his shoulders and tipped up his chin.

“It’s Ansel. You should know that,
Mother.
” He put every ounce of hatred and sarcasm into that word. “You are the one who named me.”

Her lips thinned and she glared at him.

“I told you to stay away from him.” She came closer, forcing his father to follow so they both remained dry.

“When have I ever done anything you told me to do?” Though his words were brave, his hands shook. He pulled the sweater tighter around his middle to hide his fear. The urge to step back, to turn on his heels and run in the other direction, was almost overwhelming. But over the past few weeks, he had learned a lot about himself.

He was strong. He was loved. He was worth loving.

And it was not his fault that his parents were assholes.

“How dare you. You foul ingrate. Keep your disgusting ways away from Lars.”

She brought her hand up to slap him. He saw it in slow motion, like he’d done so many times before. Her slap was so familiar he had to stop himself from seeking it out like a normal child might a warm hug. Those fingers, so long and slim, like his, were always adorned with rings. And they hurt like nothing else ever had in his whole life. As she swung back, the raindrops gathered between the jewels, making them glitter and shine even more. And he tensed.

He prepared like he’d always done. The instinctual reflex a body naturally does right before trauma is inflicted. But then he breathed.

He was strong.

He was loved.

He was worth loving.

Looking straight into her eyes, eyes that were almost mirror identical to his own, he caught her wrist just as she was about to make contact.

“No.” He gritted his teeth, seething with anger because these people were supposed to protect him. They were supposed to nurture him and forever support him, no matter who he loved or what he wore. And they’d failed. They. Had. Failed.

Not him.

It wasn’t his fault. He squeezed the delicate bones until his mother gasped.

“Let her go,” his father warned, his accent so much thicker than hers. Ansel didn’t pay him any attention. The man had stood on the sidelines his entire life. He’d always let
her
run the show. He didn’t deserve to be acknowledged now.

“You don’t get to touch me,” Ansel continued. Staring into his mother’s shocked eyes, he noted, with a manic happiness, the tinge of fear he found there. His voice was quiet but full of anger. “You don’t get to speak to me. You don’t even get to think about me, ever again.” He stepped closer so she was forced to look up at him. He was taller now, and wearing heels that made him tower over both of them. “From this moment on, you have no control over my life.”

He shoved her hand away from his face. Then he spun on his toes and walked away.

* * *

He was thirty. The big three-O. Almost seven weeks ago, he’d met Ansel for the first time.

When Fitch woke up on Friday morning, it took him a few minutes to realize that it was his birthday. There had been so many other things happening in his life, his birthday just sprang up out of nowhere. Until his sister called.

She begged him to go to breakfast, her treat. She said Pop had already told what was left of the crew he’d be taking the day off. News to him. You’d think they’d have asked if he even wanted to celebrate. Especially considering how much work there was to be done. After his big confession, most of the newer guys had quit. He’d tried not to take it personally, but it was hard. He was a good boss. He had always treated everyone well, the pay was fair and the work was regular. But hell, now that they knew he liked cock they couldn’t stand to look at him anymore.

He should probably be grateful. He didn’t want to be around homophobes anyway, but losing so many hands meant he had to work ’round the clock to keep the pace up and meet the deadline. He didn’t want to burden those who’d been loyal by piling it all on their shoulders, though he’d offered overtime for anyone who wanted to help, and some had taken him up on the offer. He should really do some work today. The last thing he wanted to do was dwell on his birthday.

Fucking thirty.
Christ.

He absolutely was not happy about being another year older.

He met Meg at a local spot and enjoyed a plate full of clog-your-arteries goodness, listening with half an ear to her stories about campus life and her latest date with Tara.

As much as he loved his sister, she could prattle on and on without end and he just wasn’t in the mood to pay attention. Especially when she wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t heard before. He forked another bite of grease into his mouth thinking of his phone conversations with Ansel over the past few days.

On Tuesday night, Ansel had told him about his encounter with his parents and, honestly, he’d almost dropped the phone and started a rampage. The last time, fuck, last time...

Fitch blinked at his eggs trying to remember that his lover was tough, not a fragile victim he needed to protect. Something Ansel had confirmed by how succinctly he’d handled the situation, displaying courage and those mighty balls Fitch loved so much. He only wished he could have been there to witness the looks on their faces. From what Ansel said, they’d been shocked stupid.

But later, Ansel had acted differently. Whenever he called to check in, he was rushed. When Fitch called, it felt like he was interrupting. The knots of anxiety he’d thought had faded came back and had been twisting his insides for days. More reasons why he’d completely forgotten about his own birthday.

He worried that bringing up the living situation was too much and now Ansel was trying to back away without hurting him. Hard to believe after the night they’d shared, but the fear and jealousy were still there. And the most frustrating thing was he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. The tighter he held on, the quicker Ansel would disappear. So he ate his breakfast, listened to his sister, and counted the minutes until sunset when he’d be able to look into his lover’s eyes again and know for sure.

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said all morning,” Meg complained.

Fitch looked up, chagrined. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind.”

She checked her phone. She’d been doing that since he’d sat down. “We can go now if you’re done.”

He pushed his plate away and tossed some cash on the table.

“You want me to drop you off somewhere or take you back to campus?” he asked as they climbed into his truck.

“I’m spending the day with you, big bro. You think I’d ditch you just because you ignore me? Nope, sorry, I love the crap out of you. You can be as surly as you want.” She stuck her tongue out at him, then buckled her seat belt. “We can go to your place, unless you want me to take you to the art museum. They have this new show by a local lesbian artist. She makes lifelike molds of vaginas. It’s awesome.”

He shook his head. “My place it is.”

With Meg’s laugh lightening the mood, he drove home, trying his best not to get caught up in his own misery. Ten minutes and thirty jokes later, they pulled into his driveway. Meg got out first, head down, phone in hand, thumbs flying over the keys as she typed out yet another text.

“You know, you could have invited Tara since you can’t seem to go five minutes without her.” He rolled his eyes and unlocked the door.

“It’s not Tara.” Her voice held a hint of glee and he turned to raise an eyebrow at her while he flipped the lights on.

“What’s going on—”

“Surprise!”

He spun at the sound of welcome from behind him and was caught by the happy faces of all his friends and family. Meg shook him by the shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, laughing.

“We totally got you. We got him, Ansel!” She pushed past him to where Tara stood.

Stunned, Fitch didn’t move as he took in everyone surrounding him. Dozens of people, his parents, his cousins, aunts and uncles, Rob and the gang, even some people from work. And in the corner near the fireplace, Ansel stood with Ange, Lirim, Tam, and Z.

Ansel had thrown him a surprise party. Those glittery green eyes focused on him, and all of Fitch’s stupid fears disappeared. There was nothing but warmth and acceptance there. The knots loosened even as his heart rose to his throat. He wanted to go to him, to kiss him, to thank him, but before he could move, he was cornered by his guests.

One after the other, they came up to him with congratulations and birthday wishes. Somehow, he managed to force his way through the crowd into the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday, Fitch. You don’t look a day over forty,” his friend Rob said, shaking his hand.

“Funny, jackass.” He laughed, pulling a soda from the cooler. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course, man. We’re friends, even if you didn’t tell me you were gay. Or bi, or whatever.”

The mouthful of soda went down the wrong pipe and Fitch coughed until Rob swatted him on the back.

“You could have, you know? My wife’s cousin is gay and he’s a real cool dude. I wouldn’t have judged you or nothing.” From his tone, he sounded slightly offended.

“It’s not like that. And I was going to tell you, but it all happened so fast, I just haven’t gotten the chance.” He turned to Rob. “How’d you find out?”

“Didn’t know for sure until just now, really.” Rob smiled and took a drink of his own soda. “Your guy, Ansel, he called me up out of the blue. Said he’d gotten my number from your sister and was planning a party for you. He introduced himself as your friend, but I’m not stupid. Soon as I saw him, I had a feeling. I don’t think everyone knows, but it’ll be hard to keep it a secret when they catch a glimpse of you two together.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“It won’t be for long, in any case. He’s a cool guy. Worked real hard putting this together for you.”

Over the heads of his guests, he saw Ansel talking with one of his cousins and a group of Meg’s friends. His dancer laughed at something one of the girls said and began speaking with his hands, like he did sometimes.

“He cares about you a lot, man. He wanted to make sure everyone you knew was invited. He took care of all the organizing of food and everything. Only thing I had to do was give him the contact info and help him haul the balloons and boxes of stuff over here this morning.”

Boxes of stuff?

For the first time since he’d arrived, Fitch took a good look around his crowded apartment and noticed the decorations. Balloons, banners, streamers and glitter covered everything, but beneath those surface decorations were other things. A few colorful mugs sat on the shelf where he kept his cups. A vase of flowers sat on the windowsill. His curtains were different. A bright throw rug had been tossed on the tiled floor of the kitchen.

In the living room, throw pillows spiced up his drab furniture, picture frames that weren’t his were arranged on the mantel next to knickknacks he’d never seen before. But the thing that got to him most was the faded blue Care Bear on his favorite chair.

Grumpy Bear.

He looked at Ansel, who smiled and winked. All Fitch could do was raise a brow. Right there, surrounded by everyone, Ansel pointed at himself, made a heart with his fingers, and pointed to Fitch.

It happened so fast he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the sudden
thud
,
thud
,
thud
of his heart said he wasn’t mistaken. But had Ansel meant it? Or was it just a symbolic gesture?

Fitch licked his dry lips and turned to Rob. “Thanks, again, for coming. Would you excuse me for a minute?”

He didn’t wait for a reply before maneuvering through the swarm of people toward his lover. Halfway across the room, his mother caught his arm and pulled him into a hug.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Such a nice party, so many people showed up.”

“Yeah, it’s real nice.”

He was just about to keep moving when his sister shouted above the crowd, “Time for presents. Fitch, get up here.”

He glanced at Ansel, at his mom, at the crowd who’d all turned to smile at him, then back at Ansel, and sighed. Ansel tilted his head toward where Meg was standing, his grin teasing. Yeah, yeah, he’d open his presents first. Fitch rolled his eyes but made his way to the front of the room.