To the right of that were two food trucks—Cibo Di Strada, and then the Rebel Rugelach. It was the first time Simon had seen Levi’s truck in action. He’d missed the soft opening which had been on a Friday night, and then Levi shut it down to work out the final kinks before the debut.
From his spot near the edge of the party, he could see Levi behind the small window—smiling bigger than he had in years. His boyfriend, James Motel, was behind him, head shaved, wearing a t-shirt with Rebel emblazoned across the front. He touched the small of Levi’s back, making his brother soften just a fraction. Even now—after almost a year—he and James had never quite found their middle ground. James was resentful and angry toward Simon on Levi’s behalf, and Simon would be lying if he didn’t admit to his own pain at watching Levi move on.
Simon didn’t entirely understand the dynamic of their relationship, but he didn’t need to. All he knew was that James made Levi—maybe not happy, but at least content. He brought a sort of balance and peace to his brother where anger had festered for years, and for that, Simon owed James the world. Simon didn’t begrudge James’ continued wariness toward him, or even his open hostility. He liked that someone else felt as fiercely and almost violently protective over Levi’s life as he was.
And he liked that unlike him, James was able to show it.
Simon was trying, but…
“Oy, mate.” Simon turned to see the newest Cherry Creek resident, Collin, approaching with a to-go cup clenched in his large fist.
Collin and his two lovers had caused a little bit of a stir when they’d breezed into Cherry Creek a few years prior. Cherry Creek had always been a more open and accepting small town, the trio was probably safer from judgement there than anywhere else. But they were new, and different, and it had taken Collin a while to wear what he had with Simon down into something like a friendship. Simon didn’t mind now. He liked Collin, and he liked Spencer and Max. He liked the way Collin always seemed to know what to say when Simon felt like he was teetering too close to the edge of a cliff.
Collin offered a smile when Simon looked at him, the turn of his lips tugging at his freshly trimmed beard. He was every bit a mountain man in his faded jeans and flannel shirt, and Simon loved that about him. “You’re late, you know. You missed all the drama.” Collin nodded toward what Simon now realized was a pile of glass swept into the corner near the Rugelach’s back tire.
“Was someone hurt?” Simon asked, eyes going wide.
Collin laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Nah. Just Cameron attempting to make a bigger deal than he was capable.” Collin pulled out his phone and showed Simon the forty second video of the youngest Motel brother, Cameron, trying and failing to break a champagne bottle against the side of the truck.
“I hope he didn’t scratch the paint,” were the first words that tumbled from Simon’s lips when the bottle finally broke and everyone cheered, and he groaned at himself. He was such a damned kill-joy, it was better that he missed it all.
Collin didn’t seem bothered though. His smile softened and he threw his arm around Simon’s neck after tucking his phone away. “Levi seems like he’s enjoying the new ride.”
Simon rolled his eyes, but he also couldn’t help his smile. “I think so.”
“You’re not hurting for help are you? With him gone?” Collin dropped his arm and shrugged. “I could always come in and lend a hand.”
Simon raised a brow. “Getting bored of retirement already?”
Collin pulled a face, but his eyes kept his smile. “A man can only take so much goat milking before he starts to feel a bit nutty. But I mean that honestly, mate. If you need a hand…”
“I have Kyle,” Simon said, but he scowled as the kid’s name fell past his lips, and he rolled his eyes. Kyle wasn’t bad, per se, just a bit useless. “It’s working well enough.”
In truth, he could have used the extra hands, but after paying off the truck and Levi’s business license, and handing off the couple thousand dollars for start-up, he had no money for anything. He was barely keeping the lights on as it was. It was worth it, but for how long?
Collin looked dubious, but he clapped Simon’s shoulder again, not paying attention to the way the touch made Simon flinch. “Just let me know, yeah?”
Simon nodded. “Of course. I should go say hi to my brother. See you in a bit?”
Collin tipped him a wave, then made his way back to the pen where one of Collin’s boyfriends, Max, was kneeling down, talking a small girl into extending a handful of baby carrots for the black goat to eat. It was sweet, it stirred a longing in him he hadn’t acknowledged in years. Not necessarily kids, but the idea of family beyond two strained brothers who had been orphaned.
He pushed those thoughts away, then headed to the truck and waited off to the side until the line cleared. He was deep in his thoughts when he heard someone clear their throat, and he looked up to see James leaning out the window with a croissant on a plate.
“Here,” James said.
Simon gave him a dubious look. It wasn’t like James to share food with him. It wasn’t really like James to acknowledge him at all unless it was to say what a shitty brother he was to Levi. “What is it?”
“It’s a fucking delicious baked good that your brother worked his ass off to create. Eat it and appreciate him.”
Simon started to reach for it, but Levi’s hand shot out and yanked James back. “Behave,” he warned. A new plate appeared a second later in Levi’s hands as he came out of the truck doors. “It was brie and bacon.”
Simon’s brow furrowed and he looked up at James who stared back—unapologetic and defiant. “That was…”
“Don’t bother. He’ll pay for it later. This is mascarpone and raspberry.”
Simon didn’t hesitate this time. It was likely James would never respect him, and he was trying not to take it personally, but he trusted his brother not to ever cross those lines, no matter how often he threatened it. He sighed, then bit into the pastry and groaned at the explosion of flavor on his tongue.
His own bakes were fine. But that’s all they were—just fine. Levi’s were an entire universe contained in such a small thing. They were warmth and comfort and home in a way only his Bubbe’s food had ever been. He peered one eye over at Levi’s face, and he saw a mixture of smug satisfaction, and beneath that, pride.
“It’s amazing,” Simon told him. He was trying his best to stop withholding his praise, and it was a difficult habit to break. “Is everyone else enjoying them?”
“I think it helps, having Enzo’s truck here,” Levi admitted. “I thought we’d end up competing, but people are buying from us both. Plus, his shit is so good.”
Simon didn’t know most of the townsfolk well. He knew of Enzo’s five-star restaurant, Mangia E Zitto—he’d taken Levi there for his graduation dinner and scraped his savings account to pay the tab. It had been a better memory of Levi’s younger years, and he had no regrets. But that was it. Enzo had lived in Cherry Creek for just about forever, and Simon had never tried his food apart from that one night.
“Are you hungry?” Levi asked.
Simon felt his lips pull into a gentle smile. “No, I ate while I was finishing up the challah dough. Thank you, though.”
Levi sighed, nodding once. “You look tired, Simon.”
“I know what that’s code for.”
Levi snorted a laugh. “Well, you do look like shit. Why don’t you just fire Kyle and I’ll come back to…”
“No.” Simon didn’t mean to sound so angry—so final. But there would be no point. He tempered his voice and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to…I just…it’s fine, Levi. This is amazing, and you look happy. Besides, it’s only for a few weeks, until you get the truck off the ground.” The agreement was tentative, but Simon had sworn when he handed the keys over, that Levi could take as many weeks as he needed before coming back to work prep hours at the bakery.
A faint blush rose on Levi’s cheeks, and he glanced a
way like he couldn’t take Simon’s attempts to actually show Levi how he felt. “Whatever. I have time now if you need me.”
“I know.” Simon swiped his hands on his jeans, then walked a few steps to the recycling bin and dropped the paper plate inside. “Right now, I’m tired, but I’m doing okay. I promise I’ll let you know if I’m in over my head with work.”
And it wasn’t likely. Levi was official competition for him now, and he knew he’d be feeling it soon. But it was better that way.
After a beat of awkward silence, Levi shrugged, and the same old ghost of frustration and resentment flickered across his face. Before it got too deep, Simon reached for him, grabbing his brother by the elbow. “Come over Saturday for dinner.”
“Can I cook?” Levi asked.
At that, Simon laughed. “Yes, and bring James.”
Levi looked mildly surprised, but also happy, and he glanced back at his boyfriend before pulling away from Simon’s hold. “I’ll be there. I’d better get back to work, though.”
Simon nodded, and just before Levi reached the doors, Simon called out to him. “It looks amazing, Levi. It’s going to do well.”
Levi hesitated, then nodded one last time before disappearing behind the metal door. It shut with a hard clang, and Simon didn’t feel entirely better, but he felt like there were small changes happening. And really, that was the most he could ask for.
* * *
Simon’s private ritual ending Shabbat was different when Levi was around. Alone, his blessings were barely above a whisper, lighting the havdalah perfunctory, the ritual taking a back seat to his eagerness for distraction.
Checking his phone, he was unsurprised to find a text from Levi letting him know that he was going to be late, but James was heading over by seven-thirty and would meet him. Simon felt a small wave of anxiety he was determined to ignore, and he sank into his desk chair, firing up his laptop for the first time in twenty-four hours. The dusk was settled across the sky, glowing its last breath behind the tall Rockies, and he didn’t bother with the lights just yet.
It had been a week since Simon had seen Sylent’s life crumble on Twitter. His production company announced a delay on the release of his upcoming film, and said he was taking a personal hiatus. All of that seemed in contradiction to Sylent’s vague posts about second guessing life and people and his career path, and for the first time, Simon felt compelled to reach out.
Before he could pull his computer close, his cat jumped up on his lap and kneaded at his thighs. The cat, Rocco—as was named by his brother—had been a gift from Levi and probably a subtle mockery. It was Levi’s subtle way of saying, I know your secret, and I think you’re pathetic. It might have been a bit harsh, but Simon expected no less from his brother. With a sigh, he gave the cat a little scratch under his chin before shoving him away, then he tucked his knees closer to the desk.
Simon reached to the back of his head and poked at the clips holding his kippah, then he tugged and eased it from his hair. Setting it to the side, he hovered his fingers over the laptop for long moments, but he wanted to give the man something more than what everyone else had offered. It was easy enough to fire up his webcam, to face it down at his hands rather than his face since he was terrified of being seen by anyone who might know him. He took a breath and hoped his skills hadn’t faded much after not using the language for so long.
‘Hi, Sylent. I just wanted to say that I might not understand what you’re going through with relationships, but I know all about questioning everything you’ve ever known in life. I’m a huge fan of your work and I hope we don’t lose you, but you have to do what’s best for you. You didn’t deserve this. I hope you’re okay.’
He checked it, and re-checked it. His ASL was rusty and probably not entirely correct in grammar, but he remembered enough. As his fingers twisted through signs, it became like flowing water again, and he hoped reaching out to Sylent in his own language would offer him at least some small measure of comfort—assuming the man actually saw it.
His heart beat heavy with fear as he clicked open the direct messages, attached the video, and then hit send.
Before he could panic-delete, the buzzer rang, and Simon shot to his feet, slamming his computer shut. He rushed toward the door before he realized it was James, and that he shouldn’t be in a huge hurry to engage with his brother’s boyfriend alone. Especially when James disliked him as much as he did.
There was no delaying it now, though. He took a breath, then met James with a tentative smile who thrust a pink box at him that bore the new label of The Rebel Rugelach across the top. He let out a small oomph as the package hit him in the chest, and he took a few steps back as James shoved past him to get inside.
“Make yourself at home,” Simon told him softly. He moved to the table and peeled away the edges of the tape. As the lid popped open, a familiar scent wafted out and his heart clenched a bit in his chest. Nestled at the bottom of the parchment paper were several rolls of jachnun, looking perfectly crisped and glazed and exactly like he’d remembered.
Bubbe had rarely made them, apart from special occasions. They were a pain in the ass to get right, and temperamental, and took forever. So, they were apology treats. They were comfort treats. They were something Simon had gotten a handful of times in his life when the grief of missing his father and losing his mother overwhelmed him. He hadn’t had them since long before Bubbe died—he didn’t even know Levi had the recipe.
His chest was tight when he looked up, and he saw James staring at him with a closed-off expression. “Levi said you’d know what those were for.”
Simon had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Ah. Yes. Thank you for bringing them.”
James nodded, the side of his jaw tense, his temple throbbing which was easy to see now that his hair was shorn down. He took a fortifying breath, then spread his hands almost in a surrender. “I guess I owe you an apology too.”
Simon couldn’t stop his eyebrow from lifting, from the words falling past his lips. “You guess?”
James flushed and looked almost curiously at him. “I do owe you an apology. I mean, we’re not friends.”
“No,” Simon agreed from behind a sigh. He wished he could change it, but he didn’t know how to just be normal for once. Not even in this important moment.
“Levi uh…he explained why the bacon and cheese thing was so fucked up. I didn’t… I’m not antisemitic,” James said, and there was just a hint of desperation in his voice. He glanced down at his feet where Rocco had started to wind around him, and he reached for the little beast, cuddling the cat in his arms.
Simon’s chest warmed with understanding. Levi was bitter at him for being so observant, but as a Jew—even as a secular one, Levi still understood better than any gentile would. He knew damn well Levi would never give his heart to someone who hated what they were—who they were—so he had no problem believing James had been acting out of ignorance, not malice. “I don’t think you’re anti-Semitic.”
“I didn’t realize what I was doing. I just…Levi eats those things, so I just assumed you were just being an asshole about it. I didn’t think it was a big deal, and I won’t do it again. I still don’t like you,” James added, like he couldn’t let peace entirely exist between them. He scratched Rocco between the ears, and he purred loud enough for Simon to hear across the room. “But yeah. Sorry.”
“Forgiven,” Simon offered, easily and simply, because he knew James meant it. He was a difficult man, but a good one. “Do you want something to drink?”
Awkwardness settled again, but luckily the door opened and Levi saved them from any real small talk. His arms were laden with to-go boxes that bore the mark of Cibo Di Strada, and Simon’s eyes got a little hot.
“I hope you’re hungry. Enzo basically threw all this shit at me after I made his boyfriend cupcakes.”
There was a hint of dishonesty in his tone, Simon knew, because Levi couldn’t let things be easy either. But the unspoken t
ruth that Levi had gotten this stuff specifically for him was enough.
“I’ll get forks,” Simon told him. “You two get comfortable.”
Levi was almost a stranger now, in the apartment he’d grown up in, but it was okay. That’s what happened, after all, when you moved on with your life. And it stung—it was empty nest, Simon knew. It was change, and he had never liked that. It had always been forced upon him, but he wanted this to be good.
He gathered silverware and drinks, and together the three of them sat around the coffee table on the floor, and it was almost—almost—normal.
* * *
Fresh from his shower, Simon slipped into his room and sat at his desk. With Levi and James there, he’d all but forgotten about the video until he saw the envelope icon with a little number one hovering over it.
His heart beat in his throat. It could be anyone, anything. Could be a porn bot or some company advertising CBD gummi bears. His finger hovered over the icon then he clicked it.
@SylentOfficial: U Deaf?
@thechametz: No, sorry.
@SylentOfficial: LOL y u sorry?
Simon’s face burst into heat like he was on fire, and he pressed hands to his cheeks because he wasn’t expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting anything. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Tell this man he had seen him twice on campus before his life went to hell so he spent years wanting him so bad he could come at the mere thought of him?
Even that made his dick hard.
@thechametz: I don’t know? Sorry, I’m awkward.
@SylentOfficial: u say sorry a lot. It’s fine. Thank u for ASL video.
@thechametz: I thought it might be nice to have something in your language. I’m not good at it.
Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market Page 4