by Rhys Ford
Dried off and with a damp towel wrapped around his waist, Angel padded out to the hallway and froze at the soft murmur of voices coming from downstairs. Clutching the towel tightly, he peeked into the bedroom he’d left Roman in only to find it empty, the bed linens a pile at the end of the bed.
“No worries. He’s… fuck.” There were a million reasons for Roman to be awake, innocent little scenarios for him to be up before dawn and wandering around a strange house, but his brain refused to seize onto any one of them. Instead, he had visions of cops, missing rediscovered lovers, and lost baby brothers.
His bare feet hit the stairs midlanding, and Angel heard Roman’s raucous, boisterous laugh slam into the house’s soft quiet, shattering it with a hearty bray. Skidding to a stop in the middle of the living room, Angel stared at West and Roman sitting at a long pale oak dining table set in a space at the far end of the house, their dark-haired heads nearly touching as they studied an enormous laptop’s screen.
They looked nothing alike except for the dark hair, but their body language was alarmingly mirrored on their faces. There was a cunning air about them, their attention focused tight on what they were doing. Angel was too far away to see what was on the screen, but he had his suspicions, especially when West tapped a few buttons to pull up a candy distributor’s website.
“So, do you see? Markup has to vary,” West explained. “Yes, you do need a few lower-cost, high-profit items interspersed with your high-ticket candies, but what you want to do is keep your eye on flash deals. Something goes on sale, grab it and do a limited run. Don’t keep it at the same cost you normally have it at, but don’t make the markup so low people wait for you to have sales to buy.”
“What about the lollipops? I can get those big ones for a buck a bunch. I think I want to sell them at a quarter each because kids always have a quarter. And I don’t want to make change.”
Roman tapped a few buttons on the keyboard, and Angel saw a spreadsheet fill the screen.
“I don’t make a lot of money, but I think it helps to keep people coming, you know? And when they’ve got more money, they’ll buy from me. I’m worried some guy’s going to come in and try to shove me out. The older kids, you know? Maybe I need a Marzo.”
“Never ever get muscle for anything other than protection. Besides, you’d have to pay him,” West commented softly. “But if you do, make sure it’s a friend. Marzo’s not only my bodyguard, but he’s also a good friend. Even if he didn’t work for me, I’d want to make sure he did okay.”
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t be selling candy at school?”
Angel padded up behind them. West’s surprise flitted across his face before dissolving into a disciplined smirk.
“I’m not selling it at school.” Rome’s attention flicked over to West, then returned to Angel. “I’m taking orders the day before and handing stuff out in the morning. On the sidewalk. Before school.”
Angel rubbed at his face, then tightened his grip on the towel knotted at his waist. “Jesus. Rome—”
“Shouldn’t you put some clothes on?” Roman asked. “And then you can bitch me out?”
“You should ask him why he wasn’t sleeping in his own room.”
West’s faux whisper into Roman’s ear brought a grin to his brother’s face.
“Not going to work, Harris.” Angel quelled Roman’s question with a hard look as soon as the boy opened his mouth. “I ask a question and it stays on topic until I’m happy with the answer. House rules. But yeah, I’m going to go put some clothes on. If you’re going to stay up, you’re going to bathe and brush your teeth. Then we’re going to talk about this, dude. You keep this up and you’re going to get suspended. And you know what happens when you’re suspended.”
“I end up working in the bakery.” Rome made a face. “Without pay. Hey wait, it burned down! So I don’t have to—”
“Porch burned down. Bakery’s fine. Guy from the fire marshal’s office said we’ll probably going to be cleared to go in today. Just in time for you to peel tangerines and separate the flesh out,” Angel clarified.
“You guys going to kiss? That’s why you’re sending me upstairs?” Rome’s challenge was light, a flicking tease. “’Cause you guys are boyfriends now? I could be scarred for life.”
“Boyfriends, huh?” Angel shot West a look. The man stared right back with an innocence so fake Angel could taste it. “Yeah, that’s something West and I are going to talk about. But so you know, I’m going to kiss who I want, when I want, whether you’re around or not, brat. So get your ass upstairs, Rome. And Harris… you and I need to get a couple things straight. Right after I go find me some pants.”
WEST LEANED against the doorframe and watched Angel button up his jeans. He’d gotten there almost too late but soon enough to see Angel tug his pants up over his tight rear. As tender as his own ass was, watching Angel’s guileless sensual dressing set off more than a few fires in West’s belly and balls, with his cock chiming in for another go at the man he’d pulled back into his life.
He liked the slender nipping marks he’d left on Angel. It wasn’t a civilized thing to discover about himself. If anything, it was brutish and primal, a declaration of ownership no sane and mature person would be proud of. It was stupid and childish. No question about it. But damned if he didn’t feel proud to have dappled Angel’s golden skin.
“What are you grinning at, Harris?” Angel looked up through his sun-streaked mane. The caramel strands were a dull bronze in the scant light, but they shimmered through the umber silk framing Angel’s strong face. “Rome done brushing his teeth and showering?”
West shook his head and chuckled. “He actually didn’t make it that far. I stuck my head in and he was facedown on the bed, snoring.”
“You sure about that?” His lashes dipped down, shadowing his eyes briefly. “That’s a pretty common scam, pretending you’re asleep so you don’t get a talking-to.”
“I tugged the blankets out from under him, got flailed at like he was going a few rounds with Ali, then he started drooling.” West pushed off the doorframe, crossing the room toward the bed. Its mattress was firmer than his own, not uncomfortably so but still more than he liked. “If he’s acting, he’d have stopped pretending as soon as he saw it was me. I’m not the one he’s avoiding.”
The con artist West first met still lurked in Angel. He’d turned it into something else, something purer than a scrabble of fast words and sleight of hand, but that hard, sharp intelligence still shone out of his warm quicksilver eyes. An intelligence honed to a point and piercing through West’s words, digging through them for any hint of a lie.
“Huh,” Angel grunted at him, reaching for a T-shirt on the bed. “So, that means you and I can talk… about Rome. You know he’s been warned about selling candy at school, right?”
“He told me the long, sordid story. About how he’s being oppressed and fighting against the Man.”
“He’s not being oppressed. He’s breaking the rules. School doesn’t want junk food on campus, and he’s dealing sugar bombs out of his locker,” Angel spat back. “I can’t risk him getting kicked out of school. He doesn’t seem to get it. And for what? Candy?”
“It isn’t about the candy, Ange,” West said, leaning back on his hands. “Or the money.”
“No?” Angel shoved his head through the shirt’s larger opening, tugging it down over his hard torso. “Then what? Because it sure as hell isn’t about getting better math grades. That asshole’s been chewing his way to Ds and Cs ever since I got him, so if I thought hawking Hershey’s Kisses to a bunch of classmates would do him any good, I’d drive him to the store myself.”
“Can you actually call a kid an asshole?” He smirked up at Angel, stretching his legs out. “I mean, are you allowed to? Sure, you’re pretty much his parent, but I don’t think you can.”
“You’re not supposed to, but let’s face it, sometimes kids are assholes.” Angel dragged a wooden chair out from under a desk
by the window, then planted it in front of West. Straddling it, he rested his arms on its back and said, “He knows it. Like I know I’m an asshole sometimes too. He’s my brother, West. I’m doing the best I can, so I’m going to ask you this one more time… stop giving him ideas on how to break the rules. Because if it’s not about the money or pissing in his principal’s mouth, what is it about?”
“It’s about the game. Getting around those rules.” West toed the back of the chair with his bare foot, dislodging Angel’s arms. “Come over here. You’ve got that chair in between us like a wall.”
“Maybe I need a wall. Did you ever think about that?” Angel pursed his lips in mock anger, then sighed when West patted the bed. He stood, then swung the chair out of the way. Climbing onto the bed, he warned, “No fucking around. We need to hammer some shit out.”
“Promise.” He shifted over, giving Angel some room to stretch out. Leaning against the headboard, West waited until Angel’s shoulder nudged his before nodding his chin toward the bank of windows. “Sun’s behind us, but we can watch the sunrise hit the ocean.”
“Feels weird to do this and not be on the beach,” Angel murmured, shoving a pillow behind the small of his back. “But I don’t miss the damned sand. Okay. I’m here. Talk. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shut down Roman’s candy thing.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t shut it down. What I’m saying is that he’s bored. School bores him.” That earned him a sidelong glance. He deserved it. After spending half an hour with the younger Daniels, West’d come to appreciate the odd blend of love and animosity the brothers shared. “He’s good at math, as he is art. Hell, he’s already got a good grasp on supply, demand, and pipeline strategies, but what he doesn’t have is a way to channel that brain of his. So the candy thing? It’s a challenge.”
The tired and worry resurfaced in Angel’s eyes, extinguishing the light West put there. Leaning over, West brushed a light kiss over Angel’s mouth, then wrapped his fingers through Angel’s, holding his hand tightly. The horizon silvered, reflecting the light coming from the sun still hidden behind the mountains. Waves rippled through the metallic sheen, picking up shadows and brights from the sky. They sat there for a few minutes, silent but for their breathing. Then Angel sighed.
“I’m really doing the best I can, West. You know that?” Angel’s head became a weight on West’s shoulder, and he firmed his spine, giving Angel a solid place to rest. “Jesus. I don’t know what to do anymore. And I’ve got another seven years to screw him up?”
“You’re not going to screw him up. You’re not screwing him up now.”
“You just tagged me for calling him an asshole,” he pointed out. “We call each other asshole and dickhead all the time. How is that not screwing things up? Shit, every time I watch Deacon with Zig I think I’m the world’s shittiest parent and how I’ve got to do better. Then I fuck it all up again.”
“For one thing, Deacon and Zig aren’t you and Roman,” West replied softly. “Did you remember his medications?”
“Yeah. I’ve got to.” Angel frowned. “Sure, he can skip on the weekends if he wants, but that’s just so he knows he’s got control over it. School days are a no-miss unless I fuck up and forget. Then I’m sending cupcakes the next day to say sorry to all his teachers if he’s had a bad day.”
“And you talk about how it’ll get easier for him to deal with this imbalance when he’s older, right?” West grinned at Angel’s humph. “I was up at four, Ange. Rome came downstairs about ten minutes after I got my first cup of coffee. And he’d already brushed his teeth or rinsed his mouth out because he smelled like mint. As soon as he sat down, all he talked about was you. You’re a god to him. His biggest fear is that one day you’ll be sick of him and kick him out or give him back to your dad.”
“I’ll fucking die before that asshole ever gets near Rome,” Angel growled. “Swear to God, West. I’d run him over if I see him crossing the street.”
“You ever tell Roman that?”
“Who do you think’s going to be riding shotgun?” There was a brief skip of time. Then Angel muttered in his low, silken voice, “No. He doesn’t need to hear that kind of shit from me.”
“Sit up,” West ordered. Angel leaned forward and let West pull him in close. Nested into the curve of West’s arm, Angel sighed contentedly. Kissing the back of his lover’s head got West another sweet murmur and a mouthful of citrus-smelling hair. After he spat the strands off his tongue, West murmured, “Look, you’re a good mostly-parent. You’re raising a damned smart kid into a pretty solid adult. Most people don’t give their own kids half the effort over their lifetime that you put in during a single day.”
“If I’m doing such a damned fine fucking job, why can’t I get him to flush the fricking toilet?” Angel tilted his head back and stared up at West. “He’s eleven years old and really likes microwave bean-and-cheese burritos. It’s like chemical warfare in there sometimes.”
“Okay, that’s a battle you can’t stop fighting.” West shuddered. “Really? I can’t…. God… just no. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if we’d left a dirty toilet behind after we were done using the bathroom. I think my parents’ heads would have exploded.”
“Some days, the battles I pick are the big ones, like getting to school and doing the work.” Angel shrugged. “Other days, it’s eating vegetables and scrubbing down the bathtub. I just don’t know how the hell to tell if I’m doing okay, because I look at everyone else, and all I can think is fuck, I’m screwing this up. He’s wearing two fucking different shoes.”
“Do the shoes matter?” West prodded softly. “In the long run, does that matter as much as the vegetables or helping with the bakery?”
“Sometimes the shoes matter,” he replied. “I don’t want to tear him down, you know? If he’s wearing one orange shoe and one green shoe because that’s his thing for that day, then I’m all for it. But if he’s got to do something serious or professional, then Rome needs to know that orange and green combination isn’t going to work.
“It’s crap like shoes and speaking properly that he’s got to know. It’s all shit I never knew, and when I got… free… cut loose from my dad, it was like everyone knew all these secret rules. I want to make sure he knows all of that before he steps out my front door prepared for whatever he’s going to do.” Angel bit his lower lip. “I don’t want him to feel stupid like I did. I never, ever want Roman to feel like he’s stupid. I want him to know he can do anything he wants to… if he works hard enough and does right by people.”
“Then you’re giving him a hell of a lot better head start than I got from my father, Ange,” West confessed softly. The rigid image of his father’s stern scowl flashed through West’s memories of the man. He’d rarely seen his father smile, and when he had, it’d been a thin, smug line, stretched over his hard features because he’d driven someone or something to the ground. “I was taught people were things to be used. Friendships were stepping-stones, connections to be maintained in case you needed them later. Lang… hell, Lang broke away first, pretty much telling my father to fuck off by not responding to the old man’s tirades and pushing. Back then, I thought Lang was an idiot.”
“And now?”
“Now, I know better.” The knot in West’s stomach was hard but loosening as he spoke. “Maybe six months ago I looked at my life and said, West Harris, you are a shitty person.”
“Sounds more like Marzo.” Angel laughed.
“He had a lot to do with it.” He patted Angel’s chest, then laid his hand flat, feeling the man’s heart beat under his palm. “Marzo’s helped me put a lot of things in perspective. Kicking and screaming out of my tar pit but still… perspective. He wants a lot of things in life… things that were never on my radar, but we talk… especially when we’re stuck in traffic, and I learned a lot of things about him… and me… while stuck on the bridges.
“Things like… wanting more than an apartment in San Francisco an
d working a hundred hours a week,” West ventured gently. “And rediscovering a lover who now has a younger brother and a slightly overdone bakery in Half Moon Bay. Maybe learning how to drive, but I think the whole relationship thing is front and center.”
“I want to make this work.” Angel’s breath tickled West’s forearm. “I just don’t know how we’re going to do that. A part of me thinks we’re moving too fast—”
“We took how many years to get back together?” He wrapped both arms around his lover, not minding the dig of Angel’s shoulder blades into his chest. “This is me not letting you go. I’m not perfect, and much like your brother, I’m probably going to be an asshole more times than I care to admit, but probably for different reasons. That being said, we like each other, Ange. I hear your voice and the prickly thin-razor parts of my soul settle down. You bury my demons because you make me laugh. You remind me I’m human, and as stupid as it sounds, I’ve lived more in these past few days with you than I have in the time we had apart. I can’t lose you, Angel, and in a lot of ways, you can’t lose me.”
“Let’s take a good, hard look at this, West.” Angel shifted, pulling himself free of West’s arms. Turning so he sat cross-legged, he shook off West’s reproachful grumble. “Listen to me. Money-wise, there’s a huge gap between us. Huge gap—and the last thing I want is you thinking I’m using you. Hell, I don’t want Roman to think he can use you, because I’ve seen some of the shit you give Zig. That’s not going to happen. It can’t happen, babe. I can’t have Roman think you’re going to bail him out of shit, and I can’t have you doing—”
“I know.” West sat up, tucking his legs under him. “I get that now.”
He’d woken up thinking of all the reasons Angel could push him away, and most of them had dollar signs attached to them. Some were personal. He knew he wasn’t the best of people. On his best days, he could be arrogant and demanding. On his worst days, he was impossible to please and deal with. He just had to convince Angel he was worth it.
