Caught in the Act

by Lydia Thorn

  “I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

  “So, what’s it like gettin’ butt fucked?” Kiki yells from the cracked door of my room.

  “I told you to stay the hell out of my house.” My mom yells in her direction. “Makeup with your mother or something. If I had known you would be staying here I never would have said anything to your mom.”

  “She’s a bitch,” Kiki replies in the same childish manner as always. Did she ever grow up?

  “That’s why you’re homeless.”

  “I’m not homeless. I’m house challenged.”

  My mother turns her ire back on me, probably realizing that Kiki was a lost cause. “When you get out of this house, you can stay out all night if you want, but as long as you live here, I’m still one hundred percent responsible for you.”

  “Thought you’d be happy to hear I’m spending the night with a hot guy,” I say placing my lukewarm bag of food on the table.

  “Boyfriend or some random hook up?” She folds her arms, her head tilts, she’s interested, maybe dying to know for my sake.

  “I can’t answer that.” It sucks that I really can’t.

  “Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you gotta spread your cheeks all over town. You gotta make them work for it or they’ll never fully appreciate you.” She wags her finger in my direction. “Did you use condoms?!”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not just saying that cause you know I’ll be disappointed in you.”

  “No, we used them, but…not while blowing each other…”

  “Fucking great!” She groans, not at all happy to hear that. “Did you ingest?”

  “Mom!”

  “Is he rich?” Kiki peeks her head out further. “Down for some ménage?”

  “Hell no,” I reply, meaning Every. Last. Word.

  “It won’t be anything personal, I just need a place to stay.”

  “You mean someone to mooch off of.”

  “Oh sweetie, look what came in the mail.” My mom grabs an envelope off the kitchen counter and hands it over.

  The name on the paper is unmistakable: Alexandre Pfeiffer, École de Patisserie. “Oh my god.”

  “We’ll go on and open it, I’m dying to know.” My mom opens my bag and pulls out the box of chili cheese fries I ordered.

  I tore it open, careful not to wreck the paper within:

  Dear Mr. Laurent,

  Thank you for your interest in Alexandre Pfeiffer, École de Patisserie. We received many interesting and excellent applications, only some of which we were able to accept this year. We reviewed your application very carefully and note several strong features. There is rigorous competition for entry into our program, and your application was not among those that we were able to accept.

  We encourage you to apply to other pastry schools and we wish you every success with your studies and beyond.

  Yours truly,

  Alexandre Pfeiffer.

  I think I’m going to be sick. The last thing I ate was ice cream and I couldn’t even finish it and yet I can feel the cream on its way up. My mouth waters in anticipation, but nothing comes out of me. “I gotta get to bed. I’m supposed to be baking for the sale tomorrow.” The words barely escape me as I sit the letter on the table.

  “It’s only five o’clock.” My mother says reaching for the letter and reading bits and pieces before setting it back down. “Sweetheart…”

  “It’s fine, there are other programs,” I say hoping to curb my disappointment, I should have known when I didn’t get the phone or skype interview yet that something was wrong. I just didn’t want to face it. They didn’t want me. I go to my room and shut the door; Kiki is half way out the window when I do.

  “Whelp, I know when my charm is useless. Get better, okay.” She climbs out the window, leaving me alone.

  IVAN

  Chili cheese fries are my second favorite food next to a giant steak burrito, I better enjoy it fast before I end up with a slow metabolism and a fattening gut. Raven, in his never-ending effort to crawl deeper under my skin, has said the words I only wanted one to say. He’s determined to take the first of everything from me like a glutton who wants more and more until they're filled to bursting. It was more than those black eyes that are endless voids but his entire being. He wants everything, and I can’t stop myself from taking step after step toward that black hole.

  I make sure I reach the door before the servant, the woman with the vampire red shaggy bob holds out her hand adorn in silver gothic jewels for me to take.

  “Thanks for coming by,” I say and step aside to make way for her to enter. I guide her down the hall toward the room I’m using as a home office. I think it was once a guest room we took to using it as a storage room when we got sick of being good little boys and placing our unwanted things in the attic. Now it’s cleaned, new furniture ordered and set up and it's mine while my brother’s home office is upstairs.

  “I couldn’t believe it when you called me.” Gina smiles and has a seat. “We got along so well during the interview….but, I also know I look like this.”

  “Let’s just say I had a lapse in judgment. Your ideas were really good and it’s something I’m looking for here.”

  “Cool. Although I didn’t blame you for tossing me, the truth is I wanted to work for you to increase my odds.”

  “At?”

  “Winning the contest.”

  I toss the folders with the proposals on my desk. “You entered?”

  Gina shuffles through the stack until she spots her proposal. “This one’s mine.”

  It’s the water vapor drone, team name: Space Graffiti.

  “You’re Space Graffiti?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “Good, then it makes this easier because I’ve chosen this project as my winner.”

  “Really?!” She covers her mouth to stifle the gasp. “Holy shit fuck!”

  “It’s not over yet. I’m not the one who makes the ultimate decision on whether we spend millions of dollars of company money on this project. I have to write a full presentation to convince my brother and the investors of my decision. It will not be easy, the work will be hard, and I’m behind on the deadline.”

  “What are we waiting for?”

  “Then you are officially hired.”

  The doorbell interrupts us and I pay no mind to it until I hear a very familiar voice. It can’t be. “We’ll start at eight a.m tomorrow after I set up your pay,” I say eager to see her out.

  “Sure thing.”

  Jericho stands in the foyer expecting me, he’s gotten taller naturally, the last time I had seen him was the final year of middle school. I take him in an embrace to confirm whether he’s real. “Why are you here?”

  “Cause I’m officially out of school and I can now do whatever the hell I like.” We let go and look each other up, each of us probably recalling how we looked the last time we saw each other in person. His auburn hair sweeps back into a man bun, the rest of his features caught up to his large nose but his nose was and is always the shining star of his face. His eyes are so blue they take on a violet hue like Elizabeth Taylor, he also has the dark double eye lash mutation. Come to think of it, he does look like a male version of her but with a bigger nose. “I’m jet-lagged as hell; I came straight here from the airport.”

  “Need a place to stay?”

  “Hell yeah.” I take him right up to the empty guest suite. What Lucian described as a charming room that almost reminds him of an upgraded 18th-century boudoir, Georgian style complete with a forest green canopy bed, working fireplace, cherry wood tea table to match the cherry wood armoire and chest. Old tapestries adorn the walls of dancing maidens pouring clear water into the mouths of cherubs. “I’m also here to save your ass if it needs saving.” He tosses his jacket on the bed and rolls up his long-sleeved sweater. It’s too damn warm now to wear stuff like that, but he was always as cold-blooded as a reptile.

  “I’m okay, really,” I say
having a seat by the table. “I was more worried about our friendship; we hadn’t spoken since I told you.”

  “I know, too busy finishing school and I’m doing a little investing.”

  “Really?” I raise a brow. “I thought you were looking forward to being your father’s heir. No work, all play and all that.”

  “I never had a passion for robots. But I do love not working.” He plops down on his jacket. “My lover wants to start a gaming company and after investing in it, I realize that I prefer to just give other ambitious people money and sit back and wait for the interest rates to come to me.”

  “You with a lover?” I laugh. “One is actually tolerating you long enough to stick around?”

  “I’ve convinced myself he hasn’t met the real me yet.” He sighs. “But I’m not here to talk about my love affair.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I see you got a fresh scar to add to your collection.” He’s referring to the scar on my wrist. I’m airing it out, but the stitches are gnarly looking.

  “It’s nothing,” I say. “You know how it is.” There aren’t many secrets between us.

  “Did Damien say or do something to upset you? Or was it about coming to terms with not being able to have him?”

  “It oddly wasn’t entirely about him.”

  “But still about him.”

  “Someone laid bare the terrible things I think about myself and I couldn’t handle it, that’s it in a nutshell.”

  “Since when do you care what others think.”

  “It’s nothing, Raven has a knack for getting under my skin, that’s all.”

  “Raven?”

  “My former blackmailer.”

  “The lonely loser?”

  “Bingo. We got into an argument, he said some things, the rest is history.” I shrug, wanting to make light of it. “He’s in love with me, you know.”

  “That was easy enough to tell by his request.” He says nonchalantly. “Oh God, are you…? You’re in love with him?” He sits up, his eyes wide in disbelief.

  I told him everything unfettered by the possibility of incrimination.

  “And you haven’t spoken since.” Henri took it all in. “What answer will you give him?”

  “I don’t know. Lucian told me I want things the way I think they should be. I hadn’t spoken to Damien at length since taking him home drunk. And Raven is taking up most of my thoughts, but I chalked it up to me just focusing on getting him to replace Damien.” I wipe my face and massage my temples. “But I enjoy his company, I hate it when he leaves, but he’s also kind of demanding, he asks for one thing and then asks for more and more and it is irritating me…”

  “I can’t tell you who to choose but I’ll give you some perspective.” Jericho kicks off his shoes and rests on the bed. “You know, cause I’m so wise and all.” He chuckles. “Tell me about the time Damien irritated you, I mean really got under your skin.”

  I open my mouth, but I can’t think of a single moment. All I can see were the times he had given me helpful advice, being able to confide certain things in him, but a tit for tat, a challenge other than the feelings I had for him which he didn’t return. “I felt nothing when I kissed him, my cock couldn’t even get that hard when I sucked him off…” I chuckle and groan. “Raven isn’t a bird, he’s a weasel. He weaseled himself into a place that doesn’t belong to him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  LOUIS

  The kitchen is as hot as it is outside. Students don white aprons and run about cooking and preparing this and that for the Farmer’s Market and foodie festival. Someone is cooking a large pot of gumbo that is filling the kitchen with savory creole spices. It doesn’t help that I didn’t eat anything this morning. Melissa keeps staring at me, I wonder if it has to do with me requesting an extension for the bakery section. I had a setback with my Fiori de Sicilia cookies, one of my assistants placed the dough near a tub of salsa in the fridge, and they became orange salsa cookies instead. I had to make a fresh batch.

  After placing the last hot tray on the rack, my assistants and I roll all one hundred and fifty cookies to the Farmer’s Market also known as the front of the campus. Colorful balloons mark the path to the festival and I find Mr. Bowie by a stand repositioning the sign: The Cookie Emporium. I think Mr. Bowie tricked me into baking these damn things so I can participate in the festival.

  It feels so strange seeing him again, my rival that I can’t bring myself to hate even if I want to.

  “You are just in time!” He turns and steps down from the ladder and pushes up his thin silver-framed glasses. I don’t recall ever seeing him wear them.

  “Sorry, I had most of the dough made ahead of time but my Fiori di Sicilias absorbed some salsa another student had made so we had to redo them.”

  “Can’t wait to try them.”

  I made the cookies large enough to be placed in individual recycled containers and Mr. Bowie wraps each with twine for what he called a rustic look. “I feel like the owner of a pastry shop.”

  “I’m taking two of each to send to some friends.” He says placing some in his bag. “I have a friend who invested in a pastry shop a few years back called Sweet something. I could get him to introduce you to the owners, they would be happy to take you in as an apprentice, especially after tasting these cookies.”

  “Thank you, though I wouldn’t want them waiting for me to come back from Paris and the program offers an internship so if all goes well, I’ll stay there.”

  Okay, I’m just a straight-up masochist at this point. Lying just hammers it home how much of a loser I am.

  Xander and his crowd of flunkies stop by. Even if he has money, I wouldn’t sell jack shit to him but it isn’t my stand but Mr. Bowie’s.

  “Too bad for you, you missed out on a great opportunity.” Xander gave me a shit-eating grin. God, his face is so damn punchable right now.

  “I don’t care about any opportunity you have to offer.”

  “You made that much clear, you should have just let him die, you know.”

  “Can we interest you in some cookies?” Mr. Bowie cut in; his tone darker than before.

  “Nah.” Xander can’t stop smirking, like he’s in on some great secret everyone is too stupid to know. “I’m too nervous to eat.” The group laughs and I know enough about a bunch of popular sheep to know that when they start laughing about something, it usually means they’ve either done something cruel or are about to. “I can’t wait for the next contestant. You might wanna go and offer your support.”

  “Go, I’ll watch over the stand.” Mr. Bowie touches my shoulder. Maybe he saw the change in my mood.

  The talent show!

  I almost forgot about it, I promised Rei I would be there but I was behind in the kitchen. I ran to the auditorium to see the almost full house laughing and jeering at the person on stage. He dressed in a long white dress with a colorful wreath around his long blond hair like a 1960s flower child.

  “I like to see everything in neon. Drink lime green, stay up ‘til dawn…” He sang the lyrics to Lana del Rey’s Fuck it, I love you.

  He didn’t give a damn about the jeers he performed as if he was on another stage, one that would accept him and cheer for him. He hit every melodic note.

  Xander enters, standing in the middle of the aisle, something small and wobbly in his hands…

  “No!” I run toward him knocking the water balloon from his hand, it smacks the floor water gushing everywhere.

  He isn’t alone. Several balloons fly, hitting Rei dousing him with water and knocking the wreathed wig off.

  “Rei!” I run backstage to meet with him and only catch up to him once he pushes open the back-exit door.

  “Don’t tell me not to go.” He says calmly wiping his tears.

  “No, I get it.”

  “No, you don’t get it!” He fires back. “You really don’t.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Mainly because you feel the need to not tell me anything.”<
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  “And what could you do? We’re powerless here until we walk out, well I’ll be damned if I wait a few more weeks to do it.”

  “You’re not just walking out on them but me too,” I argue, not wanting him to go, we made a pact to stick it out until the end, walking across that stage is our victory, to show that we didn’t allow ourselves to be beaten. But the reality is always harsher. “We might not see each other again for a long time. I don’t want to leave it like this.”

  “That day I had detention with Xander.” He sighs, the tears stop. “And every time since we’ve been fucking each other, or more like he’s been fucking me.”

  “Rei…” My heart drops. “Is he forcing you?”

  “No, he’s not. I wanted to because I’m a pathetic loser and I’m a sucker for a handsome face.”

  “And he threw water balloons at you…” I say crestfallen. “There has to be something we can do,” I say, anger in my heart building up for him. “I don’t care if it’s straight-up revenge porn shit, he deserves to pay for what he did. People like him think they can get away with whatever they want because they have money.”

  “That’s because they can.” Rei slicks his hair back. The dark roots are showing again. “Listen, I don’t want to do anything but get as far away from here as I can. I just want to go.”