by Kaye Draper
Luca heaved a sigh, feeling like an ass for giving up on his friend. But the singing continued in the background, softening the sting of his regret. “Look. It will be okay, George. Something tells me we’ll find a new lead singer in no time. Someone amazing.”
Luca hung up the phone a moment later and let himself sink into Grey’s voice, oblivious to the cold and damp. Finally, the sound broke off and he could hear Grey moving around inside the house. Luca shook himself and dropped his hand. Somehow, he was on the tiny porch again, about to reach for the doorknob.
He made his way back down the porch steps and away from the trailer park, wondering if he’d just done something wonderful…or something stupidly dangerous. He could feel the power tingling in the air and he wanted to turn around and go back, pull Grey into his arms and beg him for things he knew were a very bad idea.
Grey was one of them, no doubt about it. But how? And why was he keeping it a secret?
Luca stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed toward home, whistling an old sea shanty. Maybe he’d stop by his dad’s place tonight. The old man might have some advice. Wisdom kind of came with the territory when you’d lived through as many lifetimes as his father had.
Chapter 12
Grey flipped through the newspaper before he left the house, skimming for anything important. Most people got their news online or delivered right to their smartphones, but Grey didn’t have internet, his phone was so far from smart it was better labeled remedial, and he was too busy to waste time on the largely negative evening news. Skimming the paper had been a habit for years now. Part of him always hoped.
He nearly missed the headline today. More Theories, But no Answer to The Curse. It was an anniversary piece about The Change. Grey smiled grimly to himself. He had heard The Change referred to as a curse before, and he thought it was fitting. He skimmed the article. Nothing new. Biological warfare had at first seemed to be the best answer, crazy as it was. However, nothing more had come of The Change, so there seemed to be no point. Conspiracy theorists continued to say that it was the U.S. government experimenting on its own citizens. There were whole websites devoted to the aliens theory. And of course, religious groups declared it the first sign of the coming apocalypse. Grey scooped up his library books off the counter, his mood gone sour.
He walked across town, his mind still on the news article. So much had changed in the last four years. As much as he wanted to return to himself, he wasn’t so sure that wouldn’t be its own disaster. Would he lose the growing friendship he had made with Luca and the band? What about all the other people out there who had actually managed to adjust to the craziness and were enjoying their new lives? His chest felt constricted when he thought of it.
He tried to blend into the background as he made his way up the library steps. The old building had always been one of his favorites. Its brick façade was lined with white pillars and boasted a wide, sweeping set of stone steps. But the steps were a bit more visually stimulating than usual today, what with all the billboards and signs being waved about by the milling group of men that cluttered the place.
Mother nature had given up her icy insistence on an early winter—at least for today—and the fifty-degree weather felt like a heatwave. A guy in a pink halter top, gold booty shorts, and feather boa was taking advantage of this fact to show off his assets. He stopped Grey halfway to his destination. The guy was wearing a sandwich board that read I’m not your bitch—anymore!
The protestor held out a pink plastic clipboard and pen. “Sign our petition for morph rights?”
Grey kept his books tucked under his arm and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets as he tried to side-step the yahoo and stay under the radar. “No thanks.”
The guy’s smile melted into a petulant scowl. “So, you don’t think the victimized women of this island deserve equal rights?”
Grey sighed. “Look, I’m not interested okay?”
The guy got in his way again, his voice rising, drawing attention as he used this opportunity to leap up onto his soapbox. All that was missing was a megaphone. But then again, the guy had a good set of lungs. No one needed a megaphone to hear him. “Morphs have been treated like crap by this society for four years now. Your kind wants to quarantine us all like we have some sort of disease! Society wants us to pretend we were never women. They want us to repress our true selves!”
Grey tried to console himself with the knowledge that this guy bought his act with ease, that he assumed Grey was a natural male. But what good were these guys doing by making a spectacle of themselves? They were only making things harder for the rest of the morphs, convincing everyone around them that all morphs were aggressive wackos. Besides, signing that damned petition was a big risk. Who knew what kinds of assumptions people would draw from the list of supporters’ names? The last thing he wanted was to end up on some secret government watch list because he signed a piece of paper. It wasn’t like the petition was going to actually do anything. They’d tried that countless times. It didn’t change anything.
Grey tried to step around the idiot again, but he found his way blocked by lace and feathers at every turn as the crowd gathered round the action. He felt his blood pressure rising. “Look, I just want to get to the damned library, okay?” He had nothing against them doing whatever the hell they wanted. But why couldn’t they just leave him be? Why wasn’t anyone willing to just fuck off and let Grey live his own life?
The protester gave a derisive snort and got right in his face, a bit of spittle hitting Grey’s cheek. “I’m surprised someone so ignorant can read.”
That did it. Grey was fed up with people thinking they knew who he was or what he felt, especially since he hardly even knew himself. He dropped his books on the steps as the red rage that was constantly in the back of his mind these days swamped him. “I tried to be nice.”
Then, he hauled off and punched the protester in the gut. They guy doubled up and there was a sharp intake of breath from the surrounding crowd. The idiot would be better served learning to fight like a man instead of clinging to his long-lost womanhood. The thought was nasty and bitter, but everything ugly seemed to be bubbling up and overflowing from Grey all at once.
Someone hit him over the head with one of their damned signs. He delivered a spinning back kick, enjoying the look of surprised pain on the moron’s face as he crumpled. Before Grey knew it, he was in the middle of a full-scale melee, pink feathers floating on the air like confetti.
*****
Luca picked him up at the jail a couple hours later. Grey took his action hero wallet and stack of library books from the clerk and left the building. Pausing in the dwindling light of the setting sun, he stretched his stiff back and finally risked a glance at his savior. He had tried to call Abbie, but her phone was off. She was notoriously bad about leaving it in the bottom of one of her dozens of over-sized bags and forgetting to charge it. And he sure as hell couldn’t call his dad.
“I’ll pay you back first thing tomorrow, once the bank’s open.” Grey's split lip re-opened when he spoke. “Ah, damn.” He licked the cut and pressed the back of his hand to it.
Luca shrugged. His dark blue eyes traveled over Grey’s bruised face, split knuckles, and torn hoodie, and somehow, he still managed to sound calm. “So, you going to tell me why you beat the crap out of a bunch of morphs?”
Grey glared at him. “I just wanted to return my damned library books.”
Luca shook his head as they started down the steps. “Has anyone suggested that maybe you have some issues with repressed anger?”
Grey let out a short laugh. “Yes. But usually not to my face. At least…not more than once.”
They reached the curb, and Luca gestured to his car. “You want a ride home?”
Grey shrugged. Home was the last place he wanted to go. His father hadn’t been close enough to come bail him out, but he’d be home by now. He’d see Grey and figure it all out. Then the nagging would start. Maybe he could get a fe
w more hours a day at the bookstore, and if he sold a couple of textbooks on e-bay and cleared out his measly savings account he might be able to pay Luca back for bail.
“Where are you going after this?” Grey asked, hating the pathetic waver in his voice. Despite his anger, now was definitely one of those times when he didn’t want to be alone.
Luca raised a dark eyebrow. “I was on my way to band practice. You wanna tag along?”
Grey nodded gratefully, opened the door of Luca's low-slung black 1980 Monte Carlo, and slid into the passenger seat. The plush seat enveloped him, and he breathed in Luca's scent—like fresh green grass and cool, clean water.
Lucifer had started out as a garage band in the most literal sense, and even though they now spent some time in an actual studio recording their own indie records, they apparently still preferred to practice in the place where they had started. Today, it was Ethan’s garage.
Luca dropped his guitar case onto a ratty old recliner covered in yellow, rose-printed velour. “Hey guys, mind if Grey hangs out while we play?”
Grey gave the guys a wave. Ethan smiled and waved back, enthusiastic as ever. Matheus deigned to give a little head nod. One member of the band was conspicuously absent. Grey glanced at Luca. “Where’s Steffen?”
Luca didn’t meet his eyes. “Oh, he’s running late. He called to say he’d make it when he could. I told him not to worry too much, since we’re auditioning a new singer.” That explained some of Luca’s demeanor since he’d picked Grey up. He’d been calm, sure, but also really quiet. Maybe he wasn’t just mad at Grey for being an idiot. Maybe this was Luca royally pissed off because of Steffen.
The other guys were suddenly very engrossed in what they were doing. Finally, Matheus looked up and actually saw Grey. “What happened to your face?”
Grey shrugged and plopped down in the now vacant recliner. He coughed and waved away a cloud of dust motes. “I turned down your mom for a date.”
Matheus…flinched. For a second there, Grey was left in awkward silence, wondering what he’d said. Then Mat gave him a simpering look. “Right. Because you already had plans for the street corner.”
Ethan glanced between them with a weird, wary look—like he was wondering if he should jump in and save someone but couldn’t decide who.
Luca rolled his eyes. “He decided to break up a morph rights movement with his fists. And when that didn’t work, he decided to use his face.”
Grey crossed his arms and huffed. “I couldn’t help myself. That boa just didn’t match the guy’s purse.”
Luca just shook his head and picked up his guitar. “You’re an idiot.” But the corner of his wide mouth twitched with suppressed laughter.
Grey shrugged. Tell him something he didn’t know.
While the guys practiced, Grey lounged on the dusty old furniture and enjoyed his own personal show, feeling a bit of his anger and tension unwind. He even enjoyed the intermissions, when he got to hang out with the band “backstage” like some sort of garage VIP. Ethan plopped down next to him on the couch and handed him a soda and a fresh baggie of ice for his face. Grey had been surprised when the blond hurried off earlier and returned with the towel-wrapped ice pack. But he shouldn’t have been. Ethan seemed to have this inherent need to take care of people.
“Thanks,” Grey said, smashing the homemade icepack to his eye.
Ethan gave him a soft smile, absently rubbing a bit of the tattooed sleeve that covered his left arm. “No problem. I’ve had a few shiners myself. They go away faster if you can ice ’em the same day.”
Grey arched his good eyebrow at Ethan in surprise. “Didn’t peg you for the brawling type.” His eyes traveled over Ethan’s ripped upper body and downward. Okay, so maybe he was a brawler, what would Grey know? The guy was certainly buff.
And fuck, he was looking a little too long at all that warm golden skin and sculpted muscle. Gods damn it. He jerked his eyes away to look around the garage. The place wasn’t too cluttered, but there was definitely more random stuff out here than he’d expect from one single guy. “You live with someone?” he said, trying to get his mind off Ethan’s nearness and his kind smile.
Seriously. That whole thing about guys being horny constantly must be true. Though it seemed like Grey should have had this problem way sooner, if that was the case. Like, back when he was in his teens. Not that twenty-one-year-old guys were rumored to be a whole lot more in control.
Ethan sat back and sipped his own soda, his sky-blue eyes glancing around the garage as if trying to see what Grey was looking at. “Oh. Yeah. My dad left after The Change. It was just me and my mom. And now….” Grey glanced at him to find him blushing. And no way that should be adorable. But it was. “I know twenty-five is way too old to still be living with your mom. But it saves on rent and helps us both out, you know?”
Grey shrugged. It wasn’t like he was going to judge. “I still live with my dad. It was my mom who fucked off.”
Ethan gave him a wry, sad half smile. “Sorry.”
Grey just shrugged again. “You know how it is.”
Something shifted in Ethan’s expression, some fleeting thing that tugged at Grey’s heart before it was gone again, replaced by Ethan’s usual happy-go-lucky expression. “Do you wanna learn drums?” He stood and grabbed Grey’s arm, dragging him to his feet and over to the shiny drum set. It wasn’t anything special, as far as Grey could see, but it was obvious Ethan took good care of his stuff. Everything was so shiny and well-maintained.
“Here, sit down.” He guided Grey onto the padded stool and bent to retrieve his sticks.
Grey set his icepack aside on a nearby crate that served as a makeshift end table and took the drumsticks from Ethan. He really didn’t have the first clue about percussion. But it seemed to make Ethan happy to share, so he went along with it.
Ethan pulled up an overturned bucket and sat behind Grey, reaching out and gripping his forearms, his broad chest brushing Grey’s back. “Okay so, you kind of let your wrist bounce when you hit the drum. It’s all about learning when to tense up and when to relax at first.”
Oh, God. This was a terrible idea.
Ethan’s breath was warm against Grey’s ear, his warm hands burning into Grey’s skin through his thin long-sleeved t-shirt. “Go ahead, I’ll show you where the sweet spot is.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Matheus’s sultry voice interrupted as he returned from his car with a replacement string for his bass.
Luca joined them from the house carrying a plate of snacks. “How what is?”
Mat arched a brow at Grey and Ethan. “We leave for like, two seconds, and Ethan’s stealing your boyfriend.”
Grey flushed, feeling like he might actually catch fire. He went to stand and bumped into Ethan. The poor guy tried to keep from falling backward off his bucket, but his grip on Grey’s arms just hauled Grey along with him until they both ended up on the cold cement floor in a heap.
Matheus whooped with laughter. “Oh, smooth, Eth. Good job.”
“Sorry,” Grey muttered, trying to untangle himself from the drummer and not notice how warm and solid he was.
Ethan sighed, then let out a pained grunt when Grey accidentally elbowed him in the gut.
Luca put down the plate he was carrying and held out one hand to Grey and the other to Ethan, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter as he hauled them to their feet. “One thing you should know about Ethan,” he said gravely. “He’s a little clumsy.”
“Oh, shut up,” Ethan muttered, running a hand through his bleach blond hair and looking at the floor.
“A little?” Matheus said with a scoff. “Remember the time he somehow ended up putting his foot through his drum? Kick drums aren’t actually meant to be kicked.”
Ethan bent to pick up his drumsticks, not looking at any of them. “Ha, ha.”
Grey ran a hand over his face, then regretted it when his eye throbbed. When he dropped his hand, Ethan was right there with the ice pack. “Sorry
. I get kind of enthusiastic about my drums.”
Grey couldn’t help the laughter that escaped. It was just all so stupid. Ethan lifted one broad shoulder in a shrug. “And of course Mat just assumes everyone thinks with their dick, just because he always does.”
Matheus set to work restringing his guitar, but his hooded gaze slid to Ethan and he gave him a predatory look. “Your loss.”
Luca rolled his eyes. “They aren’t always this annoying, I swear.”
Then he paused and reconsidered. “No. They’re always this bad. Sometimes worse. Sorry.”
Grey just laughed, not knowing what to feel. A second ago, he’d been on the verge of a freak-out over his reaction to Ethan. But now his stomach hurt from laughing so hard. He decided to just go with it.
A few hours later, Luca drove Grey back to the trailer park. Grey could feel his good mood evaporating by the second. Watching the guys goof off, and occasionally even practice, had been fun. But now Grey had to go back home and deal with the sour-faced accusations he knew were waiting for him. He really needed to get his own place, but he was basically a glorified librarian. He could barely scrape together enough money for tuition and groceries. Besides, his dad might be a cranky old ass, but Grey couldn’t leave him all alone. His mom had done a good enough job on that end.
“Are you okay?” Luca’s deep voice was soft, but it seemed loud in the quiet interior of the car.
Grey grinned at him. “Sure, why not?”
It was getting dark. Luca glanced his way in the flickering glow of the passing streetlights, his dark blue gaze as perceptive as ever. “Grey--”
Grey sighed, interrupting him. “No. I’m not. Okay?”
Luca turned onto his street. “Are you….” He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say, but finally cut straight to the point, direct and unwavering as ever. “The protestors really got to you today. More than I’d have expected. Grey, are you a morph?”
