by M. A. Hinkle
George’s face shuttered. “God, I’m an ass. Not that that’s what I was trying to do, but…well, yeah, that’s totally what I was trying to do.”
Damon shook his head sharply before George could say anything more. “No. I’m not—” He was getting upset, but it had nothing to do with George, and George didn’t need to hear it. Unlike Cathal, George wouldn’t shout back and then talk normally to you afterward. He’d be hurt, and Damon didn’t want to hurt him. More.
Damon tried to gather his thoughts into a straight line instead of a big ball of stress. “Yeah, that takes the wind out of my sails.” His voice cracked, but he kept going. “I will be sad for the rest of my life. But I’m—” He sighed, frustrated with his own inability to articulate it.
He wished Cathal was here. Cathal never let him leave a sentence hanging, but George watched him with a polite non-expression, waiting for him to figure out his thought. Which felt about as easy as reading a line from Julius Caesar without time to prepare.
Finally, Damon said, “Look. I lived my life for her, because I never thought I would have a life where she wasn’t there. Now she isn’t, and I’m trying to figure out who I am without her. And who I am wants to be friends with you. Not…” He trailed off, since the only thing he could think of was “bump uglies.” Cathal wasn’t all useful.
George stood still for a long moment. Damon waited for the sharp remark. He deserved it, after all. He should have made this clear before coming to see George.
Then George sighed like he’d gotten a kink out of his back. “You know, that’s good. I mean, fuck. Half the reason I was doing this is because I thought I was supposed to. Gorgeous man falls into my lap after a bad end to a relationship and all that. But I’m not looking. I’m busy, and I’m happy, and I don’t need anything else.” He glared at his feet. “I mean, I guess I’m still letting Cleon fuck up my life, but it wasn’t that long ago, and we were together for way, way too long. So did you actually want to learn stuff? I’ve got work to do.”
Damon drew back in surprise. “You’re not kicking me out?”
“Why would I do that? I mean—what you said made sense, and honestly, you’re so hot it’s intimidating, so I’m sort of relieved.” George tipped his head back, checking that last statement. “Yeah, no, I’m busy. I’d much rather have another guy to hang out with than any pre-dating holding pattern crap.”
Damon stared at him. “Oh.”
George tipped his head to the side. “Actually, that was refreshing. We had a discussion about feelings like adults. I don’t know if that’s ever happened to me.”
Damon was still trying to get his head around the idea they weren’t going to argue. George really wasn’t like Cathal. “I know what that’s like.”
“Was your wife not the heartfelt discussion type?” George asked, carefully.
Damon couldn’t help smiling at that. It felt…good. “No, Era never talked about anything without a full outline. Which worked out, I guess.”
“You’ll have to tell me how you ended up married to an actual adult one of these days so I know how to catch one when I find one.” George paused, his expression turning cautious. “Was that okay?”
Damon nodded. “Actually, it’s nice. The only people I talk to are Cathal or my son. We don’t…we haven’t gotten to talk about her much, yet.”
George drummed his fingers on his lips. “Tell you what. Let’s have an early lunch to wash away the awkward, and you can tell me all about her.”
Damon rocked back on his heels. “Will you still show me some stuff?”
George grinned. In his eyes was a hint of mania. “Oh, yes, yes, I will. Believe me, you’re going to be sick of cake by the time we’re done here.”
GEORGE ORDERED ENOUGH Chinese food to feed a small army. After the three of them finished eating, George got to his feet and cracked his knuckles over his head. Damon started to get up, but George pointed at him. “No, no, stay put. I’ve got things to show you.”
Heather groaned around a mouthful of noodles. “Oh, God, not this shit.” Damon glanced at her, hoping for a hint, but she shook her head. “You’ll see. He’s been dithering about it for weeks.”
“Yeah, well, Jenny was the decider, and now she’s gone, which means you guys get the job in her stead.” George took a sheet pan covered in wax paper out of a flat refrigerator drawer and set it on a display table. “So this is a proof of concept.” He took another pan covered in wax paper out of a different drawer and set it beside the first. “And this is the safe route.”
Damon took his cue to get up. Heather growled and kept eating.
George took the wax paper off the first sheet pan, revealing a set of sugar candy pieces. They were green and brown, like pieces of stained glass, but Damon wasn’t sure what they were supposed to make. George carefully interlocked them to form a three-dimensional pine tree. “Ta-da!”
Damon studied it. “It’s pretty,” he said, unsure what the point was besides showing off. He’d never tried sculpting sugar. It took equipment he didn’t have yet, like a candy thermometer and a big enough flat surface to pour molten hot sugar. And a space where he could guarantee Felix or Cathal wouldn’t come in while he was trying to do it.
“And a shit-ton of work for something that’ll break if you breathe on it,” Heather said, still engrossed in their leftovers.
“But it’s super impressive,” said George. “Here’s my other idea.” He took the wax paper off a piece of white fondant painted in food coloring with a forest scene. It looked like a matte painting for an eighties fantasy movie, complete with perspective tricks.
Damon nodded thoughtfully. “That’s also cool. So…what’s it for?”
George looked surprised. “A competition.” Damon stared at him, not wanting to have to ask, because now he felt stupid for not knowing. “Isn’t that how you found out about the bakery?”
“I found it on an image search. I was looking for cake coloring ideas, and your wedding stuff came up.” He frowned. “So…you do Food Network stuff?”
“Not that fancy, though I wouldn’t turn it down if they asked.” George sighed wistfully. “Someday, Jonathan Bennett will call me.”
“I keep telling you, he’s not in charge of who shows up on Cake Wars.” Heather smirked at Damon when he jumped. Damon hadn’t heard her sneak up to the table.
“Yeah, but this is my fantasy, okay?” George put his hands on his hips. “Anyway, yeah, I do competitions. Nothing national. But for local access cable and the college TV stations. That’s where all our business comes from, though, so I assumed you’d seen some of it.”
Damon considered this. “So…why the different techniques?”
George shrugged. “The next competition is supposed to have a fantasy creature in some kind of cool environment. I could either do a fancy painting, like so, or I was thinking I’d make fancy sugar decorations, like so. Either way, the cake is going to be a unicorn, but I don’t know which one is better—the fondant is easier and less risky, but the sugar looks cool.”
Damon glanced at Heather, instinctively, but Heather held up her hands. “Oh, no, I help out at the competitions, but this shit is all him. I don’t wanna jinx it.”
“I can’t believe that’s the one thing you’re superstitious about,” George muttered, adjusting one of his sugar trees.
“You remember what happened the first time we did this,” said Heather, her expression dark.
“Yes, but since then, we’ve had a wonderful string of successes, even if we haven’t always won. That’s all beside the point.” George turned to Damon. “What do you think, Damon? Should I throw caution to the wind?”
Damon tried not to fidget. George liked him, for whatever reason, and he didn’t want George to notice that he was the most boring person on the planet. “I don’t really know if I’m qualified for this. Let’s start with you teaching me the basics, huh? I only made my first cake from scratch the other day.”
“Yes, but I believe in hook
ing ’em when they’re young. It means you won’t argue with me like Heather.”
“No one will argue with you like me,” said Heather, looking at the contents of a bin. “And he can start by being a nice manly man and getting some more cake flour. We’re nearly out.”
Damon hopped off the table. “Now that I can do.”
AFTER DAMON LEFT for George’s bakery, Cathal decided to go back to sleep since if he stayed awake, he would mope. When he went downstairs to poke around in the kitchen, Felix and Damon were in the living room watching Scandal. Cathal tried to sneak by without being seen, but Felix spotted him and paused the show. “Cathal! Dad brought you scones!”
“Scones,” Cathal said. “What are scones?”
“They’re delicious, that’s what,” said Felix.
Damon avoided Cathal’s eyes. “You have definitely had too much sugar. They’re in the kitchen if you want them. Otherwise, they’re good for breakfast. I know you like sweet things with your coffee.”
Cathal wasn’t sure what to say, so he nodded. He wanted to stand there and ask them things, but it was a stupid want, so he excused himself and went back upstairs, producing such productive notes as I’m an idiot and I should have gone home.
HE COULDN’T AVOID Damon forever. When he went downstairs the next morning, he found Damon piping icing onto star-shaped sugar cookies. “What are those for?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Thought I could use the practice.” Damon was frowning, but that could have been from concentration. “George was showing me some new techniques yesterday. He’s a real genius with this stuff.”
Cathal poured himself a cup of coffee. “So how was that?” he asked, because he was supposed to be invested in Damon’s life now and not because he liked to poke a bruise.
Damon’s hand slipped, and he mussed one of the star shapes. He brushed the icing away with his thumb before answering. “He does competitions, apparently.”
“Competitions?” That was an honest question. “What, like the ones we watch on TV?”
Damon nodded. “One of his assistants dropped out to start her own place, and he’s looking for someone new.”
Cathal made himself smirk as he sipped his coffee, even though he was not even in the vicinity of amused. “And by someone you mean you, right?”
Damon narrowed his eyes, too serious for someone with pink frosting all over his fingers. “No, he needs someone with experience. They’ll be on TV, and they could win a lot of money. I’m just a beginner.”
“Still. That’s a great pickup line, and I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t end up using it.”
Damon shook his head. “You’re like a dog with a bone about some things, aren’t you?”
Cathal said nothing.
“The scones are in the cupboard if you want one.”
Cathal didn’t want anything George had made, even though it was petty. But Damon had been right when he said Cathal liked sweet things with his coffee, and the scones were glazed.
And they were delicious, like everything else George made.
Ten: No Joke in this Title because this Chapter Is about FEELINGS.
DAMON HAD HOPED the first full rehearsal would cheer him up, since it did involve his son romping around in a dress and enough glitter makeup for at least half a drag queen. But it wasn’t funny, and not only because he couldn’t hear the dialogue since the kids wouldn’t get to wear microphones until the final dress rehearsal.
Nah. He was in an off mood, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.
It didn’t help that Cathal had left him alone to go help Cleon with something or other. The other parents were nice, but Damon didn’t know them well, and George was painting a set, so Damon was alone on the catwalk, flipping lights on the stage to set the mood.
He was settling into a good brood when someone came up the steps. Damon kept his attention on the switchboard to indicate he wasn’t interested in talking.
“Are you feeling okay?” George asked, coming to stand next to him. “Evie says there’s a nasty flu strain going around the school.”
Damon straightened up to give George access to the panel. “Nah, I’m okay.”
“Damn, it would have been really funny if you puked over the side of the catwalk.” He propped his elbows on the railing.
“I can’t throw up now. Felix looks so good in that dress.” He pointed down at the stage. He couldn’t hear the lines, but since only Titania and Oberon were on stage, they were presumably arguing about Oberon’s little servant. “I don’t know if I get what this director is doing. Are they dancing the tango?”
“I guess.” George squinted at the stage. “They’ve got good chemistry, though. I’d swear Gareth likes him.”
Damon glanced at the stage again, although since both kids were pretending to hate each other, their expressions and body language weren’t much help. A further complication in Felix’s love life was the last thing he needed. “He’d better not.”
“What, don’t tell me Felix’s straight as an arrow?” said George, his lips twitching. “My gaydar is broken, but even I’m not that dense.”
“Felix doesn’t do labels because he says nothing fits him.” Damon slumped against the railing. “I say that because Felix likes the other twin. Theseus.”
George tucked his hands in his armpits. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m terrible at recognizing couples.”
“Trust me, they fight like cats and dogs.” Damon looked at the vast array of buttons on the switchboard instead of trying to gain further meaning from the play. That had been his wife’s job, not his.
George shrugged. “Eh. That doesn’t mean anything. That’s how Heather and her wife are. And I thought you and Cathal were a couple when I first saw you.”
Damon looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
He must have looked scary, because George stammered. “You know, you were going at it, but I thought it was a flirting thing. I see a lot of different types of people at the bakery. Sometimes from the outside, it looks like people can’t stand each other, but then they do something else that makes it clear how much they care. But they’re like Heather. They can’t say something outright when they could punch someone and call that communication.” He shook his head. “Sorry, sometimes I get like that. I guess I believe in love after all, broken heart or not.”
“Mm,” said Damon. “I mean, you kind of have to for your job.”
“You’d be surprised how many wedding people are cynical hacks who like the sound of getting paid a mint for a few hours of pictures or whatever.”
Before George could say anything else, Helena tripped over her gown’s train and crashed through the canvas backdrop.
George winced. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go see if they need help.”
“You do that,” said Damon, leaning on the railing again.
George really thought he was with Cathal? Why? What was he missing?
THE NIGHT OF the first performance finally arrived. Felix manifested his anxiety through practicing scales on his keyboard and eating lots and lots of sugary cereal. As well as getting into whatever Damon brought back from George’s.
“What is all this about, then?” Cathal demanded after finding Felix crouched on the table eating Lucky Charms from the box for the second night in a row. “It’s not stage fright, so what’s on your mind, nephew of mine?” Felix meekly held out a handful of marshmallows. Cathal took them. “Don’t think this gets you out of answering my question.”
Felix sighed, letting his head fall back. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s been—weird. I still can’t talk to Morgan without sounding like an idiot, but he doesn’t seem to care, and Jerky McJerkface is still a jerk, except that I end up talking to him more than Morgan because Gareth actually talks.” He peered into the box and sighed.
“Not having the guts to kiss someone is nothing to be ashamed of. I haven’t kissed plenty of people because I like them better as friends. Sometimes it’s the wiser choice.
” Felix looked crestfallen, and Cathal poked him in the side. “Don’t do that. I wasn’t finished. As I was saying, sometimes it’s the better choice, but I would not say in this case. You like the boy. Go ahead and tell him. Take a chance.” He crossed his arms. “And if you’re waiting for some heaven-sent right moment, stop it. Just talk to him. Goodness knows you’re awful at keeping your mouth shut, so go ahead and put your foot in it. I’m giving you permission.”
Felix laughed weakly. “Yeah, I guess so.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You make it sound so easy, though.”
“It never is.”
And Felix looked up, startled by how serious Cathal sounded.
Cathal shrugged. “Take it from someone who knows, my boy. Honesty is the hardest thing in the whole world.” He patted Felix’s knee. “Now put that away or you’ll never get to sleep.”
DESPITE FELIX’S NERVES—he’d finished off the entire box of Lucky Charms at some point—he performed admirably, as always. Not to say that everything went perfectly. Alex’s signature trick as Bottom was sliding out on stage and skidding to a stop, but the first time he attempted this, the stopping part didn’t go so well. He made it look purposeful, though, or at least as purposeful as a teenager can look doing anything. And George pressed the wrong button and bathed the first forest scene in purple light instead of green, although it made for a charming effect. Much as Cathal was loath to admit it.
Everything else went smoothly, which, all things considered, was a minor miracle when dealing with fifteen-odd teenagers and a couple disinterested parents.
The success of the performance seemed to have gotten rid of Felix’s jitters, if only temporarily; he bounced in his seat on the drive home. “So Daaad,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it clear a request for something questionable was about to follow.
“So Feeeeeelix,” said Damon, his lips twitching.
“Gareth wants to have a cast party.” That came out all in a rush, and Felix leaned forward between the passenger and driver’s seat.
