His Fairy Godfather

by Nico Jaye

  “Here we go. Let’s get outta here, yeah?” Trick appeared at his elbow with a brown paper bag that was already beginning to spot with grease stains.

  Out on the sidewalk, the blast of cold air came as a surprise, and Edwin huddled into his coat a bit more. The snow banks were glittering particularly beautifully right now. When Trick offered him the open bag, Edwin reached in and pulled out a few fries. The flavor burst onto his tongue in a combination of heat and salt.

  “Mmmm,” Edwin murmured, reaching for another.

  “Ditto,” Trick said, munching on his own handful.

  With each breath, a cloud formed out of Edwin’s mouth. It amused him, and he tried it again, watching the visible air dissipate into the night. “This is fun. ’Tis like I’m a Hermecilent Firebreather,” he said with a giddy smile.

  Trick gave him a blank look. “Uh… Harry Potter?”

  Edwin turned to Trick, blinking at him. “The Hermecilent Firebreather? They make acceptable pets due to their size, but mostly outdoor pets given their penchant to set things er… on fire?”

  Nodding, Trick appeared contemplative. “Right. That makes sense.”

  Beaming, Edwin tilted his head toward the corner. Ooooh, that made him feel a little fizzy headed. “I take it our evening is at an end. Is the transit stop in that direction?”

  After a long look, Trick seemed to come to a decision. “Uh, Edwin? The subway… I think it’s a bad, bad, bad idea. Sleep would be good. Better, I think.”

  Edwin frowned. He was a grown fairy, quite capable of taking transportation alone. In fact, most in his position would have already been tasked with far weightier obligations to fulfill their duties in continuing the Goodmaker lineage. He was able to return to the Pointe on his own, thank you very much.

  But… this could also be a good opportunity to learn more about Trick. Edwin hedged a little. “I wouldn’t want to inch… inconvenience you, Trick.”

  Trick’s lip lifted at the corner. “Nope. C’mon, I’m just up the block. Let’s get outta this cold.”

  With a nod, Edwin did his best to keep pace with Trick, who stumbled a bit when stepping off the curb. Edwin watched with concern, but was grateful Trick managed to right himself on his own. Trick seemed to take particular care in his movements after that, placing each foot deliberately before taking a step with the other. As they made the short walk to Trick’s place, Edwin couldn’t help remarking on the sparkling lights he kept seeing in his periphery and the glow of the holiday season décor in the windows. ’Twas lovely up here.

  Except Trick’s building, that was. Trick’s building was… less than lovely.

  The bottom portion was different from the top six floors, and from the pungent smell that emanated from inside and the metal grates that covered the windows and doors, Edwin thought it must be a restaurant of some kind.

  The discolored yellow awning proclaimed it to be Raj’s Curry House, but Edwin was unfamiliar with curry or why someone would want to build a house from it.

  The upper part of the building was brick, with a large set of metal stairs fastened to the side of it. It seemed to be a common decorative feature on the buildings in the city.

  Trick lived on the fifth floor, and besides the many flights of stairs, there was… foulness… in the stairwell Trick made sure they avoided. It was unpleasant, to say the least.

  The apartment itself was better, but mostly because it was so empty. The worn sofa was cozy, at least, and Trick’s bed in the corner appeared to have clean sheets. A large wooden desk sat nearby, looking very much out of place with the rest of Trick’s belongings. A milk crate served as a nightstand, and the whole of it was one room with a narrow doorway leading into a tiny bathroom. It seemed serviceable, despite being the approximate size of Edwin’s closet back in Paravale.

  From his vantage point on the brown sofa, Edwin’s gaze took in the space. As Trick’s fairy godfather, Edwin was concerned. This was not how he would want his charge to live.

  “Home sweet home,” Trick said drily, spinning in a circle. “Want a soda?” Trick peeled off his gloves and then began undoing his coat buttons with clumsy fingers.

  “No, thank you.” Edwin shook his head, then abruptly stopped. He must remember that Malibu Bay Breeze and sudden movements of the head did not mix.

  What did mix, though….

  “Do you know what would be most delightful right now? More pizza!”

  “So true, Edwin.” Trick pointed at Edwin as he flopped onto the couch beside him with a mournful look, his limbs in a careless sprawl. He sighed loudly. “But the pizza places that deliver this late up to my apartment have rats. So that’s a no go. I am not a fan of rats on my pizza.”

  Edwin frowned. Surely there was a way. It took Edwin a few moments before he lit upon an idea. He reached into his pocket and couldn’t hold back his excitement. “No, no, it’s a go! Watch this!”

  Aiming his wand at the battered coffee table, Edwin screwed up his face in concentration, and with a small puff of disappearing glitter there appeared a pizza. Steam still rose from the cheesy surface, which boasted circles of burnished red pepperoni.

  “Pizza!” Edwin grinned at Trick, who stared at the pizza in amazement, then at Edwin. Trick laughed, a bubble of surprised joy.

  “What? No way!”

  “Yes! Way!” Edwin grabbed a slice and bit into it, watching with a grin as Trick did the same.

  Setting his piece of pizza to the side, Edwin aimed his wand again. He wanted to magic up something cool for Trick. Something Trick would love! A moment later, a full set of Palomino Blackwing pencils appeared next to the pizza.

  Trick’s eyes went wide, and he reached for them. “Holy shit! These are the best, but Redden is too cheap to keep them in the office, and the last time I bought a set, they all went missing. I bet it was Jasper. That guy is a douche.”

  Edwin laughed, feeling giddy with the flow of magic in his body, and Trick ducked his head, chuckling along with him. Trick looked so happy, so full of joy, and Edwin leaned closer, wanting to share this feeling of magic. He aimed for Trick’s cheek, but Trick turned his head at the last moment.

  Edwin pressed his mouth to Trick’s in a soft meeting of the lips. He could feel Trick’s smile against his mouth, and the kiss lingered between them, connecting them. It was meant as a friendly thing, but the swirling of his soul that stirred inside of Edwin felt like something more. The magic flowed through Edwin, and Trick gasped softly against Edwin’s mouth.

  When they pulled apart but moments later, Trick’s expression was inscrutable.

  Edwin, for his part, was flabbergasted. What was that? He hadn’t meant to kiss Trick in such a way, but now that he had, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give it up. The kiss had been sweet, pleasant, and new. These emotions that spun him around—they were novel to him. The way his blood had raced—that was for Trick. But Trick was his charge, and he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about him—was he?

  Trick was still watching him closely. “Edwin, I… I don’t know if….” Trick leaned in closer, squinting at him, and his voice trailed off. “Are your eyes glowing?”

  Edwin blinked the residual magic away, hoping the fairy glow had receded. Clearing his throat, Edwin tried for levity. “If they are, it surely is the Malibu Bay Breeze. That drink would make one’s blood light up.”

  Trick sent him one last unreadable look before shaking his head. With a snort of laughter, he said, “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I did.” Edwin grinned lazily, the sparkles on the edges of his vision fading in and out. “Thank you, Trick. It was a chur… tur… truly enjoyable evening.”

  Edwin settled into the cushion and blinked at Trick….

  The three Tricks were back. They were smiling at him, but now they were sparkly too.

  There was a blue Trick, and a pink one, and a purple one…. They were helping Edwin out of his coat and shoes, then guiding him to his feet. Once they’d reached the bed in the corner, the middle Trick
tugged the blankets back and tucked him underneath.

  The bed was so cozy….

  The triplet Tricks covered him with the blankets.

  “Thank you,” Edwin murmured. With a last smile, Edwin closed his eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  TRICK WOKE up, certain he had developed a grapefruit-sized brain tumor during the night. It was the only logical explanation for the fatal pressure in his head. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the morning light filter through his slitted lids in increments.

  As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, fragments of the night before slowly began to piece themselves together. He remembered taking Edwin to the bar, and he remembered finishing off at least one—no two—pitchers of beer. And at most, half a measly slice of cheese pizza in the whole evening.

  Jesus.

  Trick hadn’t had that much to drink since…. Well, granted, he’d drunk a pitcher on his own before, but he’d always managed to lay on a foundation of at least a couple of slices or dirty-water dogs first.

  It had felt so good to let loose, though. Most weeks, all he did was work, and when he did have time off, that time was mostly spent alone. Even when he was grabbing a pitcher at Patrick O’Brian’s, it was usually just the latest on the bar’s flat-screen TVs keeping him company. Hanging out with Edwin had been fun. A little surreal, but fun. He vaguely remembered ordering him a couple of Malibu Bay Breezes and the look on Edwin’s face when he’d tried it for the first time.

  There was some sort of fuzzy memory there with the Skee-Ball. Trick dug deep and remembered the lucky shot that had won him the game. At that point, Trick was lucky he’d managed to hit the ramp, let alone the target, but the fries he’d won were the best-tasting thing he’d ever eaten, second only to the pizza.

  The pizza! Trick grappled for the remnants of memory, trying hard to make sense of them. Had Edwin pulled out a stick at some point? Trick suppressed a laugh, not wanting to wake Edwin who was sprawled out, one leg hanging off the mattress and onto the floor next to him. None of it made sense. The wisps of memories didn’t match up with what was realistic.

  He was getting to be far too old to drink like that.

  Trick wasn’t positive he’d ever been drunk enough to hallucinate before, but sure enough, when he glanced over at the counter in the kitchen, he saw the generic box, still stained with grease. They must have chanced the condemned place down the street. Trick didn’t remember ordering or it being delivered, just that it appeared in front of him and it had been delicious. He hoped the queasiness he was feeling was solely an aftereffect of the alcohol on an empty stomach and he hadn’t accidentally ingested E. coli-laced pizza during a lapse in judgment.

  The apartment was freezing. Trick could feel the chill, despite being wrapped so snugly in the blankets, but his bladder was going to burst if he didn’t get up, and he didn’t think Edwin would appreciate a wet wake-up call. Slipping from the bed as carefully as possible, Trick stood and snuck across the apartment, avoiding the spots in the floor he knew would creak.

  He brushed his teeth while he was in there, feeling a thousand times better as he spat the minty froth into the sink. The cold was starting to set into his bones, his whole body shivering as he finished up, then hurried back to his bed.

  Having the whole day off meant there was no reason for him to be out of the warm cocoon of his bed. He climbed back in and rolled to face Edwin who was still dead to the world, his mouth slack in sleep as he snored gently.

  Trick took the opportunity to look at him. Unlike city dwellers who bore the stress of everyday living in the lines on their faces, Edwin looked nearly the same in slumber. He was lying on his back, limbs spread wide, looking like he had not a care in the world. His long lashes flickered against his cheeks, and he murmured low before a sigh escaped his shapely lips.

  And suddenly, a new memory of the night before slammed into him.

  Edwin had kissed him. At least, Trick thought he had. There was something there, a vague recollection of the softness of Edwin’s mouth pressed against his own and the fruity sweetness of his breath. Trick remembered the feeling of warm contentedness that spread through him and how he’d wanted to live forever in that moment.

  He shut his eyes for a minute, letting the thought wash over him before carefully tucking it away in his mind. Unsure of whether the memory of the kiss had been altered by the alcohol, Trick decided that nothing good would come of dwelling on how nice it had been. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened to Edwin’s steady breathing next to him and forced himself to think about anything other than that kiss.

  Trick hadn’t realized he’d fallen back to sleep until he felt the mattress dip next to him. He opened his eyes once again, feeling much more human this time around, and turned his head to the side to peer over at Edwin.

  “Good morning,” Edwin said with far too much cheer for prenoon, postbender. Trick didn’t know what it was about Edwin, but he never seemed to be in a bad mood. In all the times Trick had seen him, he was perpetually happy. It was completely illogical. Especially now. With the way those fruity cocktails had knocked Edwin sideways, he should have been slammed with the hangover of the century, but he was as bubbly as ever.

  “Morning,” Trick said after clearing his throat. He felt groggy but less like he was still drunk. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Oh yes. It was wonderful. Your home is quite cozy.”

  Trick snorted. “Yeah. Cozy.”

  “Thank you for allowing me to spend the night with you here.” His kindness and sincerity almost hurt. Trick wasn’t used to that level of kindness from anyone, let alone someone he’d known for less than two weeks.

  The longer Edwin looked at him, that open, happy expression on his face, the thicker the tension grew. Edwin didn’t seem to notice. Trick had never really done the morning-after thing. The number of guys he’d slept with was respectable, but he didn’t generally make a habit of sleepovers. He didn’t know what had prompted him to ask Edwin to stay.

  For things to get awkward between them was the last thing Trick wanted. He liked Edwin. The guy was a bit strange, but in a quirky, loveable way, rather than an off-his-meds way. Maybe Trick was being ridiculous. They hadn’t had sex. One kiss didn’t mean he needed to feel weird. It wasn’t going to happen again anyway.

  It wasn’t that Trick didn’t think Edwin was attractive. He was full-on hot, in that blond, brick shithouse, yet wholesomely all-American farm boy from Kansas way. Edwin was also far too good for him. He was kind and polite.

  And naïve as fuck.

  Trick was a New Yorker and was far too jaded to be with a person like Edwin. Trick’s cynicism and pessimism was bound to rub off on him eventually, and while there was a deep, dark part of Trick that found some level of appeal at the thought of corrupting some deep, dark part of Edwin, he couldn’t do that. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends.

  He found himself wanting to spend more time with Edwin. He liked the way Edwin made him feel—calm and peaceful, like there was a shell of happy that surrounded them when they were together.

  “Are you hungry?” Trick asked, shifting to face Edwin.

  He grinned wide. “I’m absolutely starving.”

  “Let’s go get something to eat.”

  DUNKIN’ DONUTS was nowhere near as interesting or posh a place as Doughnut Plant, but it was cheap and it was only a couple of blocks up from Trick’s apartment, just beyond the subway tracks on Broadway. Edwin had enjoyed the doughnuts so much the day before, Trick thought it would be a good option for breakfast.

  The bored-looking man behind the counter seemed oblivious to Edwin’s excitement as he leaned down to inspect the confections in the case, choosing their limited-time breakfast option—a glazed-doughnut breakfast sandwich, which was essentially some sort of weirdly speckled egg patty and a couple of strips of bacon smashed between two glazed doughnuts. The thought of eating it turned Trick’s stomach, so he stuck with a bagel and black coffee.

  Taki
ng their breakfasts to go, they wandered back out into the unseasonably warm morning.

  “You wanna go to the park to eat these?” Trick asked, aware that while Manhattan was home to innumerable beautiful spaces, the area surrounding this particular location of Dunkin’ Donuts was not particularly attractive.

  “That sounds wonderful,” Edwin replied. “Central Park?”

  Trick considered it for a minute. It was the most famous, and definitely the most touristy, but there were other green spaces in New York to be seen. “I was thinking maybe Riverside Park. It’s not as impressive as Central Park, but it’s not far to walk to from here, and in some spots there are some really nice views over the Hudson. The Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument are there and Grant’s Tomb.”

  “You want to have breakfast in a tomb?” Edwin asked.

  “Not in the tomb, or even near it. It’s just a pretty building near the water. We can go somewhere else if you’d like.”

  “No. Riverside Park sounds lovely. Let’s go there.”

  They made their way down the street, past the laundromats and 99-cent shop, in front of the low-income housing buildings, and underneath the massive green steel beams that made up the structure where the subway was no longer underground, but above their heads.

  Walking past Trick’s building, he suddenly wondered what Edwin thought of how he lived. The apartment was cramped and run-down, and his furniture was makeshift at best. Without much doubt, Edwin’s place in Kansas was way nicer than his. Trick imagined him living on a farm, sprawling spaces and rolling green hills rising up to meet wide blue skies. In his mind, where Edwin came from was idyllic and open, he didn’t have rats living in his walls or a layer of cigarette butts on his front steps, and his front door most definitely did not smell like stale urine.

  It was only a matter of time before Trick would be able to move somewhere nicer. He had no idea when that time would actually come, but the reason he was living in such a shithole—besides the fact that he couldn’t actually afford anything nicer—was because he was working toward a goal. And every day that he worked for Redden made him even hungrier for it.