Death of a Bachelor

by M. A. Hinkle

  “We want those two corners,” said Gareth before his brother could speak. Morgan glared at him, but Gareth grinned in a way that gave Damon a start. Cathal looked at Era the same way when he won an argument.

  Damon shook himself and gave them the corners. He glanced at Cathal and raised his eyebrows. Saying Cathal’s name would have felt too strange.

  “I want the treble clef,” said Cathal. Damon felt like a few days ago he would have known what the smile on Cathal’s face meant, but maybe he would have been kidding himself then too.

  He served Cathal and turned his attention back to Trevor. “Got a preference?” Damon asked, trying to sound light. Trevor looked like he was making this into a life or death choice.

  “Dad,” said Gareth, curling his upper lip. “Live a little, would you?”

  Trevor glanced over at his son, his frown deepening. “I’ll remind you that the entire point of this was to convince me you had some worthwhile friends, young man.”

  Gareth just shrugged. “This was Morgan’s idea, not mine.”

  Damon gritted his teeth, waiting for a scene, but then Trevor turned his attention to Damon. “I’ll have the last corner, please.” Gareth looked surprised.

  Damon served Trevor, glad he could sit back down. The sooner this was over, the better.

  “You’re not going to have any, Dad?” Felix asked. To Damon’s shock, he still hadn’t hoovered down his cake. He really was trying to make a good impression.

  Damon plastered on a smile. “I spend all day around cake, Felix. I’m sick of it.”

  Felix frowned. Then he said, “Dad, I hate to say this, but you are wrong. Cake is the best thing.”

  TREVOR AND HIS sons left soon after that. Damon expected Cathal to leave with them, since he’d been chatting with Trevor about some academic thing, but Cathal hung back, leaning against the wall.

  “Are you gonna spend the night, Cathal?” Felix asked. Damon braced himself for the answer.

  But Cathal started, almost like he’d forgotten he wasn’t staying here anymore. He recovered quickly, as always. Maybe he’d been woolgathering. Whatever that meant. “No. I wanted to ask about the latest developments between you and your paramour.”

  Felix turned bright red, and Damon relaxed. He’d wanted to ask that question himself but hadn’t known how to bring it up. “Gareth’s not my paramour,” Felix mumbled. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “How can you know he isn’t if you don’t know what it means?” Cathal asked, smirking.

  Felix hunched his shoulders. “You know, he’s…He’s confusing. Morgan’s got a big solo in the concert at the end of the year, so he hasn’t been in study hall, so it’s been me and Gar. And that’s nice. I guess.”

  “Gar, eh?” said Damon, raising his eyebrows.

  “Dad! Not you too!” Felix covered his face with his hands.

  Cathal’s eyes flicked to Damon’s, a smile dancing around the corner of his lips. Damon grinned back. Then he remembered what it was like to kiss that mouth and dropped his eyes.

  Cathal patted Felix’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Felix. I’m heading home, and we both know your father isn’t nearly as good at interrogations. You’re safe now.” Felix tried to lick Cathal’s hand, but Cathal was too fast. “You are a disgusting little heathen.”

  “Hmmph,” said Felix.

  “Do you need a ride?” Damon asked. The words slipped out. Habit. Or a throwback. Something dumb.

  Cathal was shrugging on his jacket, and he kept his face turned away. “Bus, Damon. It exists.”

  Damon thought about arguing, but what was the point?

  Felix gave Cathal a grumpy hug, and Cathal left. Then it was just Damon and his son again, and that should not have made his house feel so empty.

  Damon turned to Felix, refusing to let the silence crush him. “So. When will you find out his father’s verdict?”

  Felix huffed. His blush had faded, but his ears were still bright red. “Dunno. Gareth doesn’t think it’s gonna change anything, but Morgan thinks it’ll work. What do you think, Dad, did it go okay?”

  Damon frowned, putting his hands in his pockets.

  Felix rubbed his nose. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said, as though Damon’s face were an answer. “I mean, the food was super good. And Gareth’s dad seemed to like Cathal.”

  That much was true, yeah. Damon shrugged, unable to keep from looking listless and tired. “I don’t know, Felix. I guess we’ll see.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Felix paused. “Can I have another piece of cake?”

  FELIX WENT UP to his room to practice, and Damon went into the kitchen to clean up the dishes. He could have put them in the dishwasher, but he didn’t have anything else to do with himself. He’d made too much food and too much dessert. Never mind how much Felix ate, Damon wouldn’t have to cook all weekend, which meant he had to figure out what to do with himself for a whole two days.

  “How’d you get stuck with such a deadbeat dad, anyway?” Damon muttered, pushing his fingers through his short hair.

  This was ridiculous. He’d managed to pull himself up and out after Era’s death when it had seemed impossible, yet now he was back to moping around like nothing mattered. He needed something to do with himself. But what?

  HE WAS SURPRISED that George answered the phone. “I thought you’d still be working,” Damon said, to cover that he’d meant to leave a voicemail.

  George sighed. “Evie wanted to go out for dinner. Little party for a friend of hers. And of course, we had to invite Cleon.”

  Damon blinked. “You actually called him by name?”

  George growled. “Don’t you start, too. I still want to punch him in the face.”

  “I’ll hold him still if need be.”

  “You should do the punching for me, actually. You were in the military. I’m sure they taught you that kind of stuff.”

  “I was a military cook, George.”

  “Still. You could hit him with a saucepan or something.” George blew out a breath. “Anyway, did you need something? Leave your coat at the bakery or whatever?”

  “I wasn’t wearing a coat.” George growled again, and Damon relaxed. “No, I…” He couldn’t waste too much time. George had things to do. “I wanted to tell you that I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  Damon resisted the urge to groan. “You know. The…the competition.”

  “What? Really?” George sounded shocked. Not surprising, since Damon had spent so much time blowing him off. “I mean, it’s not like—Damon, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

  “I do want to.” Damon bit the inside of his cheek, but the words came out anyway. “Look, I need something useful to do. You need another warm body. Don’t act like it’s a big deal.”

  George sighed in relief. “There are five dozen things I could say in response to that, but right now, I’ve got to get back to dinner. The most important thing is thank you. You are saving my ass, and you don’t even know how. This whole thing is going to be so crazy, and you are going to be such a big help.”

  Damon ignored that. George could have asked anyone, but it was nice of him to pretend. “It’s all right, George. I’m happy to do it.”

  That was a lie, but maybe if he repeated it often enough, it would be true.

  Fourteen: Damon Always kind of Wants to Punch Himself in the Face. Even More So at Fancy Dinners.

  CATHAL WAS GOING over his class outline for approximately the fifth time, since, after all, he had never taught this class before, and therefore he needed to do it well, since he wanted to teach it again. Yes. Absolutely. It was not to distract himself from his writer’s block or anything else going on in his life. Nope.

  Then his phone rang. “Thank God.” He picked it up. “You know, Felix, everyone else in my life texts like a normal person, and they’re all at least twenty years older than you.”

  “But then how would I ever hear your voice?” Felix sounded brigh
t and cheery. Not that he usually sounded any other way, but it still made Cathal feel better. He worried, though God forbid he ever demonstrate it.

  “I’m sure that’s why you called, and not because you wanted something from me. Out with it, kiddo. I’ve got work to do.” Cathal didn’t, really, but if he talked to Felix too long, he’d ask about Damon.

  Felix huffed. “Okay, okay. I need to ask you another favor.”

  “Please tell me you’re still doing all right in physics. I’ll be very upset if not.”

  “Not that. Morgan’s helping me with that.” Felix made a nervous humming noise.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, Felix. You think I can’t glare at you over the phone, but I will video call you so you can see my scowl.”

  Felix groaned. “Okay, okay. So Gareth’s dad is maybe gonna walk back the grounding some more so we can actually hang out at places that are not his house.”

  “That’s good news, but what does it have to do with me? You seem to be doing well on your own.” Actually, Cathal wasn’t sure how Felix was doing in that area. He remained closemouthed on the subject of Gareth.

  “Not that.” Cathal could almost see Felix rocking back and forth in place. “Okay, so Gareth’s dad wants to have us over to dinner, and I wanna know if you’ll go with us.”

  Cathal needed a minute to sort through the rapid-fire phrasing, but he was already shaking his head. “I’m busy, Felix.” It felt like an excuse, because it was an excuse. He couldn’t even think of a good backing argument. His mind was full of his last sight of Damon, dressed nicely and looking like Cathal had never been in his life at all.

  Felix whined. “I know, I know, but it’s only for one night for a little while, and you made such a good impression on Gareth’s dad last time. I mean, he liked Dad, too, but Dad can’t really do the smart-people talk like you, Cathal, and I know that’s how come Gareth’s dad liked dinner last time. Please? You’ll get to see Gareth’s fancy house and stuff.”

  Cathal pinched himself so he wouldn’t answer right away. He never wanted to snap at Felix, and he couldn’t think of a good reason why to say no, but there had to be one. There had to.

  “Please?” Felix said, breaking Cathal out of his thoughts. “I really miss you.”

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Yeah, okay,” Cathal muttered, rubbing his forehead now. He’d have a headache for a week anticipating this, but it was his own fault for being a pushover and having feelings. “But you owe me for this, squirt.”

  “Yes!” Felix’s squeal was so loud Cathal almost dropped his phone. “And I already owe you, like, everything. I promise when my band gets rich and famous, you’ll get my portion of the royalties.”

  Cathal snorted, despite his mood. “I keep telling you, kiddo, you’re in for a rude awakening. Record companies don’t share profits.”

  “Pfft. We’re gonna get famous on the internet. I gotta go do my homework now, Cathal. Byeeeee!”

  He hung up before Cathal could say anything else.

  Cathal set down the phone and fell backward in his chair. Well. He had no one to blame but himself.

  FELIX WAS A ball of barely contained nerves on their way over to the Lewis home, which did not help Damon’s mood. Especially since they were going to pick up Cathal, since the bastard lived right next to Cherrywood College and didn’t need to drive anywhere, and therefore didn’t own a car like everyone else in the world.

  And Cathal looked sharp, as always. His smile was cool, as though he wasn’t going anywhere important, but he brightened when Felix leaned forward from the back seat to greet him. “You know, if I wanted to have someone jump all over me whenever they saw me, I’d get a dog,” said Cathal, sitting in the passenger seat.

  “I take that as a compliment. Dogs are perfect in every way.” Felix drummed his hands on the back of Cathal’s seat until Cathal glared at him. Felix meekly sat back and refastened his seatbelt.

  “So anything new?” Cathal’s question was directed to the dashboard.

  “Well, I’m working on a new song called ‘Face Punch.’” Felix was now drumming his hands on his knees. “Sarah wanted to try some techniques she saw on YouTube, so we thought we’d see if we could write a thrash metal song.”

  “Oh, heaven preserve us.” Cathal silenced his phone and tucking it back in his pocket. “The last thing I want to hear is you screaming like you’re being disemboweled.”

  “It’s gonna be all instrumental. None of us have the voice for that kind of singing. Well, I could fake it, but you really wreck yourself that way, and I don’t wanna sound like I’m a smoker.”

  Cathal nodded gravely, though his lips were twitching. “Very good. What about you, Damon?”

  Damon was glad he had to focus on driving so he wouldn’t look at Cathal’s face and try to figure out what the heck he was thinking. “Nothing, really. You know me. I’m boring.”

  “Dad’s gonna do the competition with George!” said Felix, because of course he did.

  Damon cringed, waiting for some kind of implication about his relationship with George, but Cathal just raised his eyebrows. “Oh really? What made you give in?”

  Damon shrugged, trying not to grind his teeth. “George needed the help. He hasn’t been able to find someone to replace his old assistant, and I’m there all the time anyway.”

  “You are?”

  Damon was at a red light, so he risked glancing away from the road to see Cathal’s expression, but Cathal was picking at a hangnail, disinterested in the conversation. “Cut that out. You’ll get a blister.”

  Cathal rolled his eyes, but he did drop his hand from his mouth. “Last I checked, that doesn’t answer my question.”

  Damon bit back a sigh. “What else am I supposed to do with my time?”

  Cathal didn’t press the point. Maybe he’d given up on implying that Damon was going to get with George any second now. Damon could dream, anyway.

  “So what does that consist of, anyway? Is he the Sith Lord to your apprentice?” Cathal asked.

  “Why Sith Lord?” Felix asked. “George is really nice.”

  “Because the Sith get cooler outfits. And Adam Driver is attractive.”

  “He looks like a cat,” said Felix, wrinkling his nose.

  “I will ignore that you said that for the sake of our connection, which you know I value very much.” Cathal looked sideways at Damon. “Anyway, this is a distraction. Damon, you were saying?”

  Damon shrugged, trying not to hunch his shoulders up like Felix did. “It’s not very interesting. George is practicing the sculpture, and I’m working on all the other little pieces. It’s the exact same stuff every day so we can do it quickly.”

  “You know, I’ve been wondering about that. How do you make that much cake in six hours, anyway?”

  “We get to premake the cake. George doesn’t like the ones where you have to make the cake during the competition. Too much chance for melted frosting.” Damon’s lips twitched, despite himself. “Anyway, he can’t remember the recipe. We make the same cake the same way every day, and every day he has to look it up. Even I’ve got it memorized at this point.”

  “Baking is edible chemistry.” Cathal was smiling, which was still frustratingly nice to see.

  “George has got an apron that says that. It reminds me of you.” The words just— came out.

  Thankfully, before Cathal could say anything awful, Felix bolted up out of his seat to point. “There it is!”

  Felix hadn’t been kidding about the Lewis home. It was three stories high, with hedges and a gate you had to be buzzed through.

  “Do we have to walk through a metal detector?” Cathal muttered under his breath.

  “Like I said, he’s super rich,” said Felix, ignoring Cathal’s tone.

  “Good lord, no wonder these boys are so out of touch,” said Cathal as Damon pulled up to the front door.

  Felix was first out of the car, bouncing from foot to foot. Damon wasn’t sure if it was
nervousness or excitement, since Felix’s “I want to puke” face was the same as his “I want to dance” face.

  Damon took his time stepping out of the car, trying to school his own features to blankness. Even Cathal looked wary, though he always looked like that.

  “I hope you realize that this is a serious favor on my part, Felix,” said Cathal. “The urge to mock everything is going to kill me.”

  “I know, and you’ll do a great job because you are the most awesome uncle figure to ever exist in the history of uncle figures.” Felix took Cathal’s arm, beaming now.

  Cathal let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re lucky it is written in the gay charter that I have to spoil the heck out of my friends’ children since I cannot produce any of my own.”

  “You like kids, don’t lie,” said Damon absently, hunting for the doorbell. Then the door opened. Damon took a quick step back, surprised.

  It was Gareth. Damon could only tell because of the hair. Otherwise, he might have thought it was Morgan, since Gareth had a pleasant smile on his face.

  “Oh, you’re early,” Gareth said. “Dinner’s not ready yet, and Dad’s still working.”

  Thankfully, Felix bounded forward before Damon could figure out what to say. “Dad is always early. Being late gives him hives.”

  Cathal snickered. Damon kept his gaze fixed on the ornate carvings on the front door.

  Gareth shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Morgan’s practicing. You want to come see?”

  “You bet your butt I do!” Felix said. “But, um—” He glanced at Damon with a pleading expression.

  Damon smiled, despite his nerves. He was impressed Felix remembered they were there at all. “I’m sure there’s somewhere we can wait?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Gareth glanced over his shoulder. “Let me show you the parlor.” Cathal did not bother to hide his disdain. “I know it’s super pretentious, but so is my dad, so it suits him.”

  “Be nice!” Felix tried to pinch him, but Gareth eluded him. He grabbed Felix’s hand instead. Damon raised his eyebrows at the pair. Felix turned red, but Gareth just looked evenly back at him and started down the hallway.