"There you are!" Frankie ran up to them, waving a clipboard threateningly. Her sundress was an eye-searing neon green that flared out around her knees. "You guys are like the last people here."
"It's still fifteen minutes before opening." Ace sighed. "Not like we have much to do anyway."
"Thank God for Deb. She got here at dawn, laid out all the tape for the booths for me." Frankie blew upwards, sending her bangs dancing. "She brought the shop banner, your glossies, and the flash books. You should give that woman a raise."
"She pay you to tell me that?" The banner was indeed already pinned to the table. Someone must've spilled coffee on the banner once, a murky brown stain lingering in the top right corner.
"Didn't have to this time around." Frankie shrugged. "Do you guys need anything else?"
"No, we're good."
"Awesome. If you need anything, there's an information tent at the other end of the street. I'll be there when I can, but Carlos will be manning it the rest of the time and he knows everything about everything. Food trucks are already cranking up if you want something to wake you up." She bounced on black sneakers with laces that matched her dress. "Remember, no swearing, spitting, or being an asshole."
"Why are you only looking at me?" Ace raised an eyebrow.
"Because Liam here is a gentleman." She laughed, leaning in to brush imaginary lint from Liam's shoulder. He hadn't realized until that moment that they were the exact same height. "Keep him in line, sugar. See you later!"
And then she was off, dress flapping behind her like a cape.
"Goose thinks she's going to break up with him."
"I am not gossiping with you like a teenage girl." Ace pulled the postcards out of the box, counting them out into even piles.
"You want to though." Maybe it was the morning confession, the oppressive heat of the morning, or Frankie's infectious energy, but Liam felt playful. "Come on. You want to know what I know."
"No, I don't." Ace ducked his head, hiding a smile. "Because you know nothing I don't know."
"I bet I do."
"Bet that you don't."
"She left him a voicemail," Liam taunted, taking out the heavy paper and his pencils.
"So?"
"So, he was worried about it."
"Goose doesn't worry about shit." Ace snorted. "Things don't stick to him long enough to induce worry."
"You swore already, man. No wonder Frankie wants me monitoring you." He'd have to lean the pad on his knees to sketch, but at least there was a stool for the customers to sit on. "Anyway, plenty of things stick with him. The store. You. Frankie, apparently."
"I'll swear as much as I damn well want to. Not like there's anyone around to get pissed about it yet. Unless I'm burning your ears?"
"Yeah. You're offending my delicate sensibilities, asshole."
"Rough word there. Nickel for the swear jar?" Ace waggled a finger at him.
"If we kept a swear jar in the shop, we'd have enough for all the shiny toys you want within a month."
"And go bankrupt in the process." Ace shook his head. "Guess we can call setup complete. I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Want me to see if I can shake a cup of tea out of them?"
"A Coke would be better. It's too hot for boiling water."
By the time Ace made it back, the crowd had already begun to trickle in.
"I had no idea it would be this crowded. Where did all these people even come from?" Liam took his soda, popping the tab just enough to let a hiss of air through.
"Apparently the draw of wicker baskets calls to everyone." Ace tucked one leg under the other as he sat, stealing a piece of paper and a green pencil from the supplies. "Also, they're worried it might start raining, according to the dreamcatcher seller by the Greek food cart. So probably everyone came in early."
"I made one of those in grade school. My eyes went cross winding the string everywhere. Isn't it supposed to stop nightmares?"
"Damned if I know." Ace sliced a line over the page, the first unsteady foundation of a building.
"Hi." A sullen teenage girl with dyed black hair and too much eyeliner stopped in front of them.
"Hello." Liam returned the smile tentatively.
"Oh, look at this Marie!" A woman with long blonde hair and painted on eyebrows gestured frantically at the girl from the next stall. "It's that homemade soap I loved last year!"
"I see it, Mom!" The teenager yelled back, then gave Liam a wide-eyed look. "How long can you take to draw a portrait?"
"Half hour at least." Ace jumped in. "An hour if you want to tip generously."
Marie brightened considerably after her mother set down forty dollars with a reluctant frown then disappeared into the swelling mass of chattering humanity. She was a good subject, staying mostly still, except to ask a question or two. Liam was dimly aware of Ace talking with a few other booth visitors, their stack of cards diminishing slowly.
"This looks killer," Marie announced when Liam slipped her the portrait. He'd gone in for heavy dark colors, giving her more of the goth pixie look she seemed to be going for. "Thanks for the save! I'm totally going to get a tat done as soon as I turn eighteen."
"You might want to wait," he said quietly, checking to make sure Ace was involved with a customer. "Trust me on this. It's something you carry around for the rest of your life, and you'd be surprised how much you change."
She shrugged carelessly, taking the card and tossing another thank you over her shoulder as she went. He wanted to call her back and explain before the crowd swallowed her up. Warn her that what seemed brilliant at eighteen could lead you on twisting paths and spit you out somewhere you never meant to go.
"I've got you another client lined up already." Ace clapped him on the shoulder, shaking Liam out of his dark thoughts. "We might actually break even this year."
He drew much faster after that, twenty minutes to sketch a general, idealized face with soft pencil and only a hint of color. Ace kept everyone queued up, handing out cards and showing off his arm tattoos. Just when Liam's hand began to ache, Goose wandered up to the stall. He was wearing a huge floppy straw hat and a neon pink shirt with "I Am Secure in My Masculinity" written across it in black spray paint.
"I hate everything about this weather." Goose announced, swooping up one of the cards and inspecting it. "Hey. Why's the Professor's work on the front?"
"Because I like him better." Ace rolled his eyes. "You're late. I thought I was going to have to gnaw off my hand at the wrist to keep from starving."
"Whatever. I left early, but I had to park like three miles away." He pouted out his lower lip. "You only like him better 'cause he's all punctual and polite and shit."
"There, there. I'm sure you're useful for things, too." Ace patted Goose's shoulder, then shoved him into the chair Ace had just vacated. "Sit here and make us look good for an hour."
"Bring me back some falafel!" he shouted as they made their escape.
"There's falafel?" Liam asked.
"Maybe? The food trucks are sort of questionable, but they do have long menus." Ace skirted around a bevy of kids swinging ribbon sticks.
They settled on kosher hot dogs with the theory that they'd at least begun life as decent meat even if they had been left in boiling water for too long. Ace piled relish on his which was the first thing he'd done all day that dampened Liam's low boiling arousal. They eked out space on two cement steps, eating as the crowd threatened to flatten their toes.
"You thought of taking an art class or something at Berkeley? You don't suck," Ace asked when he'd inhaled most of his lunch.
"Thanks." Liam picked at his bun. "I took a life drawing class for a while. They were way more serious about it then I was though. Too much theory for me, too. I like the joy of it, not the why of it, you know?"
"I went to the arts center for a while, actually. Liked it even." Ace watched a mother lift her baby from a stroller. "But it was too much money for what it was."
"You're not awful either."
/>
"Years of practice." Ace rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased with the observation.
"Is that mural on your wall really just a doodle?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I should look at it again." Liam had sat on the step below Ace, his head level with Ace's lap. Sleepy and full, Liam could too easily imagine setting his head there and dozing in the oppressive heat. "There's a lot in it."
"When we first opened, we didn't have a lot of business." Ace rubbed his palms over his knees. "Gave me something to do in between times. I never had a plan, and it just got bigger and bigger. Like it was waiting under the wall... Christ, that sounds stupid out loud."
"No. It doesn't." Liam said firmly, looking up at him. "I get it. Sometimes you're just a vessel for something to pour through. I've been there."
"Yeah, exactly." One of Ace's hands strayed, knocking a strand of sweat-dampened hair out of Liam's eyes. "You've got too many words for someone who doesn't like to say much."
"I think I've got enough." Liam tried not to lean into the oddly tender motion. "Why'd you say all that stuff this morning?"
Ace drew his hand away, folding his arms into himself.
"Thought you needed to hear it."
"I knew it already. Maybe you needed to hear yourself say it," Liam said, surprised by his own aggressiveness. "Maybe you wanted a reminder."
"Maybe." Ace sighed. "What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Nothing, I guess." Liam grimaced. "This was all much easier when I thought you were straight. Or uninterested."
"Hard four hours on you, huh?" Ace smiled. "Think about me. I clocked you weeks ago."
"Oh God," groaned Liam. "Are you trying to kill me with embarrassment?"
"What's to be embarrassed about? Not like you made a fool of yourself about it. Just caught a few of your longer looks. If you were any more discreet, I'd think you were still in the closet."
"Never saw the point."
"So you're freaked out that I knew you were into me, but not that I knew you were gay?"
"Yeah. Why? Is that weird?" Liam stared at the crack in the sidewalk. "The latter is just fact, the former was a private feeling that's now public."
"You get all literary when you get nervous." Ace scooted down, coming to sit right next to Liam. His body throbbed warmth, intensifying the days heat until Liam was dizzy with it. "Quote me something."
"What?"
"It'll make you feel better. Like Professor Xanex or something. So quote me something."
"I-I can't think of anything." He knotted his hands together.
"Hey." Ace slid his fingers over the tangle of Liam's hands. "Come on. Gotta be a quote for this situation."
Liam wanted to take Ace's hand in his. He wanted to bring the knob of knuckle to his lips and taste the tang of his skin. Instead he took in a breath and cast his mind into the ocean of memory.
"He is not of your order: keep to your caste;" The words swam back to him as fresh as the day he'd seen them printed before him, "and be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul, and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised."
"Despised is kind of strong. What's that from?"
"Jane Eyre. It's sort of a pep talk she gives herself."
"Sounds like more of a shake down or something." Ace's thumb swept a slow path over Liam's index finger. "The whole point is that it isn't exactly unwanted. Just... not recommended."
"If you're going to keep trying to let me down gently, could you maybe do it without touching me?" Liam suppressed a shiver. "It's giving me some really shitty mixed messages."
"Right. Sorry." But Ace didn't take his hand way. Liam chanced a glance over and found Ace studying him with a soft expression. "You were right. I was reminding myself this morning. You have no idea... you get all rumpled first thing in the morning. It shouldn't be attractive, but it's been driving me crazy since I moved in. Sex hair and half-open eyes, lips all red... should be goddamn illegal. You're practically illegal."
"I've been a legal adult for four years and mature enough for one for longer than that," Liam said through the tightness in his throat. "I'm not a child."
"Trust me, I've noticed."
A flash of lime green warned Liam that the moment was about to be shattered. He bit back a curse as Frankie swept in, shoving the wedge of company into their hard-won intimacy.
"Who's at your booth?" She tapped her clipboard. "Or have you abandoned ship?"
"Goose has it in hand." Ace leaned back, canceling all body contact in a single maneuver. Whatever had been building between them dissipated all over again. "You eat yet?"
"I had a protein shake this morning. I'm good for another two hours." She gave Liam a quick once over. "Why do you look like someone set your face on fire?"
"Ate something I couldn't handle," he gritted out, getting to his feet. "I'm going to go help Goose out."
"I'll be back in a minute; gonna get some food in this one," Ace called out after him, but Liam barely heard him.
Frustration rattled him, and his hand shook a little when he lifted his pencil back up. Goose didn't say anything, just watched him and made a soft concerned noise when the pencil tip shattered against the pad.
"It's fine. I brought a bunch."
"Uh-huh." Goose plucked the pencil out of his hand. "We don't have any customers, man. You can take a break."
"I don't need a break." He snatched it back.
"What the hell did you have for lunch?" Goose blinked. "You're wound up tight."
"Ask your boss." The blank page stayed blank. There was nothing he wanted to commit to paper just then.
"What'd he do? Cut your hours? I mean, it is a little lean right now, but none of us are exactly hurting and we're due to make a damn good profit today if you keep up like you did this morning. Total tightwad sometimes, our Aces. Tightwad. That's a weird fucking expression. Tight. Wad. Sounds like something you'd find in a porno--" Goose got warmed up to his rant and Liam let him go rather than correct him.
"Are you still doing portraits?" A young man asked, his arm around the shoulders of a waifish girl. "Could you do a double one?"
"Cost you the same as doing two," he said flatly.
By the time Ace came back, Liam had lost himself in the mechanics of the work. He didn't listen to whatever murmur of words passed between Goose and Ace, didn't pay attention when Goose left or Frankie came by with a wide smile of thanks for the both of them. He tuned everything out, drew sketch after sketch and accepted folded bills.
He had tunneled his vision to such a small point that he didn't register the first droplets of rain until they spilled onto the paper and smudged his lines.
"Better hurry, Picasso," Ace said, sounding utterly exhausted and hoarse. "Sky is gonna open up any second."
"Shit." He dashed off a few more lines, adding some shading and thrust the drawing at the well-coiffed woman on his stool. "Sorry, you can have it for free. If I finish, it'll get soaked."
"Such a kind young man. I wouldn't hear of it." She pressed the money into his palm. "I wish my son was more like you."
"Thanks," he smiled wanly back. "I wish my mom was more like you."
"Come on, Professor." Ace snapped up the plastic banner, folding it into hasty squares, then jammed the few remaining cards down into his back pocket. "We've got to hightail it out of here, or we'll be swimming home."
Liam packed up and walked off without checking to ensure Ace was behind him. Maybe Ace was in better shape and certainly faster, but Liam's legs were long and he had frustration on his side. He was only a block away from the car when the rain shifted gears from gentle mist to angry downpour. Instantly, his clothes soaked through, and his sneakers grew heavier with every step. His umbrella, nestled safely in among notepads in his bag, seemed a laughable defense against this kind of onslaught.
"Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker." Ace caught up with him, his black t-shirt gone slick. "Might as well quit rushin
g, can't get much wetter."
"I really hate today." Liam trudged on miserably, eyes stinging as the product in his hair melted downward.
"I don't know. Had a few good points." Ace put his hands in his pockets and turned his face up to the rain. "You know what we'd say about this back home? Mae hi'n bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn. It's raining old ladies and sticks."
"Old ladies and sticks?" Liam smiled despite himself. "Guess it doesn't make any less sense than cats and dogs."
"Right? And I like the sound of it better." Ace stopped walking. "If you were only a pretty face, none of it would matter."
"What?" Liam turned to look at him. "Are you trying to give me conversational whiplash?"
"This is how I roll. I'm also going to put my hands in my very wet pockets to keep them off you this time, so I hope you're grateful." Like a cowboy holstering his gun, Ace tucked his hands away. "No matter what Deb says, I didn't think much of you when you started. Don't take it the wrong way. I liked your work, but you were sort of stiff and cold. I figured it didn't matter if you were good looking 'cause I was never going to really be interested."
"Any of this supposed to be a compliment?" Liam wiped uselessly at his face, trying to keep his vision clear. "Or you know, make sense?"
"I'm getting there!" Two laughing women raced by them, their flip-flops thudding against the pavement. A crack of thunder chased after them. "The thing is, you turned out to be this brilliant, kind guy with a sense of humor and a decent taste of music. You're actually sort of awesome. And you're just... there. All the time. Being like that. So yeah, I have to remind myself you're off limits. That you're just going to leave and go back to being brilliant with other brilliant people soon."
"Great. You keep reminding yourself then." Liam threw up his arms. "Just leave me out of it. I already know. Reminders not required nor desired."
He strode back to the car, eating up sidewalk. He was uncomfortably aware of Ace coming up behind him and lingering just out of sight. Hands grown clumsy from the growing chill, he had to fumble his keys out of his pocket and into the car door. Eventually he made it though, and it was only the drowned rat look of Ace's dreadlocks that made him unlock the passenger door too.
Stories Beneath Our Skin Page 11