by Peter Styles
“Not in Kansas,” Chance grumbled.
“Well, maybe it is a cloud. Whole new weather system in Colorado, I suppose. I guess we’ll see as we get closer.”
The smudge grew as they approached, forming into a jagged grey line clearly bolted fast to the ground. Grey became a distinctly dark blue haze, and Chance finally realized what they were looking at.
“Oh! Mountains!”
“Right!” Angel slapped the steering wheel, grinning. “Took you long enough.”
Chance slapped something now: Angel’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to know what they look like? They aren’t like anything I’ve seen in pictures. They’re just blue hills.”
“That’s because we’re still really far away. They’ll get better, I promise.”
And they did.
Before they even came close enough to the mountains to see them properly, the lay of the land changed around them. No longer flat and straight, the ground turned to hills and slopes. The road curved, wavering through those hills and sometimes passing through the small valleys between them. If Chance hadn’t known any better, he would have said they were already in the heart of the Rockies as walls of green rose up all around the car. And with the hills came more colors, flourishing patches of purpling clover and an array of wildflowers tucked here and there in the shade or in the crack of a rock. Sunlight dripped from dewy petals. His neck started to ache from craning it around so much.
Then, the most recent hill came down to a gentle slope and revealed what had been hidden just on the other side. Enormous masses of earth and stone flanked the road in the distance, broad even from so far away. Their crests weren’t exactly as jagged as Chance imagined they would be, but were instead rounded and occasionally dusted with snow. Others were bare of anything, exposing stark walls of granite streaked with earth.
Chance pressed his nose to the window, a little surprised at how cold the glass was. “Wow,” he breathed, fogging up the glass. “It’s amazing.”
“It is,” Angel agreed. Usually so unflappable, he also sounded awed. “Just wait until we’re actually standing on one of those and looking down on all this. I bet we’ll be able to see Kansas.”
“Oh god. Can we face the other direction?”
For the last fifty miles or so, they saw any number of small towns and billboards loudly proclaiming tourist attractions, with trail rides being the foremost among them. Now, those small towns gathered in intensity until Chance realized they had entered the outer limits of a city. Then, a sign welcomed them to Colorado Springs and he couldn’t help but shake his head at the wonder of it all. It was a city the same as any other, with blocky steel buildings set out in a careful pattern with roads cutting between them and strategic bundles of greenery on this street corner and over in the park. It was the surroundings that made the difference. The city was almost completely blocked in by thick mountain walls from all sides, green and brown and gorgeous.
I’ve seen that color before, Chance thought, looking at the gaps in the mountain trees where the earth beneath showed. It was the shade of Angel’s skin, and the precise color of the lighter striations in his oaken irises.
“Should we find a hotel for the next couple of days?” Angel suggested. “Hopefully a cheap one.”
Chance rolled his eyes, letting his silence do the agreeing for him. As they drove around, he looked out the window and watched the unfamiliar setting pass him by. Large groups of tourists roved by on the sidewalks, making Chance think that he saw as many people in a group as there were people living in Astoria. Hostesses stood outside restaurants, urging people inside. Every shop held a theme in direct correlation with the mountains. In one way, that was a novelty. In another, he had to wonder at the implications of having to base your entire economy around whether or not you could come up with a catchy name and decent decorations. It seemed both difficult and yet cheap. After all, what was there that hadn’t already been done before? What was there to set one jewelry shop apart from another?
“You seem to be pretty deep in thought,” Angel said as he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel that looked remarkably like an old hovel. It was called Miner Comforts, which did not seem to bode well for what could be found inside. “Bad thoughts or good ones?”
“More just making observations, really.”
Angel looked over at him. “If I have to tell you my secrets, you have to be a good boy and not tear everything apart with a ton of that observation junk.”
Chance shrugged nonchalantly, trying to keep the most innocent look possible on his face as he climbed out of the car. “Maybe I’ll have some incentive when you do actually tell me.”
Angel got out of the car as well, catching Chance’s hands and looking into his eyes. “Listen,” he said. His expression was stony serious, as serious as a mountain. “Listen, why don’t we go around and do some window shopping? And then we’ll either bring back something to eat or go out somewhere. If we see a bar or something, I want to stop in to see if they’ll let me play. Is that okay with you?”
“Sounds fine, but…”
Angel tapped his nose with one finger and then leaned in very close until their lips touched. “And then we’ll come back here and I’ll spill my entire life story to you, okay?”
“For real this time?”
“Unless we somehow get distracted by sex again. That was a real pity.” Angel pressed his lips to Chance’s in a quick kiss and then headed for the front doors of the hotel.
“Maybe I should say no more sex until afterwards,” Chance growled.
Angel scoffed, holding the door open for him. “You can try that tactic, but I honestly doubt it will work. You can’t resist me.”
For your safety and well-being, I would do anything.
They headed inside and were greeted by a portly young man. “Welcome to Miner Comforts, where we offer our guests all the amenities in life that a miner had to give up for the sake of their noble job.”
“What amenities were those?” Chance asked, fascinated. The man standing before him was only just out of his teens, with an earnest smile full of shining teeth.
Their host lifted one hand and started to tick off points on his fingers. “Amazing beds. A heated pool out back. Continental breakfast served at an hour long past when other hotels have stopped serving it.”
Angel stepped sideways, putting himself partly between Chance and the other man. “You’re just listing things you have at the hotel. That doesn’t have anything to do with miners at all. Was there even any mining in the Rockies?”
The host held up his chubby hands, taking a step backwards. “Hey, man, I didn’t name the joint. I just work here. You guys want a room or did you just come in to be jerks to people who work for a living?”
“Hey…” Chance tried to interject but that was when Angel fully stepped out in front of him and he found himself staring pointlessly at a broad expanse of shoulder.
“For your information, we both work. And you’ve got a pretty smart mouth for someone who can hardly fit into his uniform. Do we need to get your manager, or are you going to shut up and sign us into a room?”
For a moment, the host said nothing. Then, color rose up into his cheeks and he turned on his heel to go back around behind the desk. Chance bit his tongue hard to keep from saying anything all through the process of checking out one of the four available rooms for the next week, but the moment they were back outside, he let everything come out.
“That was a little asshole-ish of you, Ghostie. He really didn’t deserve that.”
“You saw the way he was looking at you, right?” Angel grabbed the car door and yanked it open, tossing his backpack onto the concrete and grabbing his guitar to sling over one shoulder. “Little ass needs to stay away from you. Everyone does.”
“Angel!”
“What?” he snapped back. “Am I not supposed to do something when someone else is making eyes at you?”
Chance stopped in his tracks, struck by the ridiculousnes
s of the statement. “Making eyes at me? Oh my god, are you forty?”
The corner of Angel’s mouth quirked upwards. “I feel like it sometimes. I’m sorry, Chance. But no one gets to look at you like that except me.”
“Why?”
“Why…Because you’re mine.”
I’m yours.
Such a simple statement but the meaning behind it…Chance shook his head, waiting for the realization to settle in that he’d just been claimed. It didn’t come. The whole concept was too unreal. What did it even mean, really? He’d belonged somewhere before but that didn’t last. Who was to say that this would?
“Come on. Let’s take our stuff inside and be done with it.”
“Sure,” Chance muttered.
Miner Comforts was really more of an old-fashioned motel, with four outside entrances. Behind each lay a room, all of which, Chance slowly realized, were empty. They’d been played. Four vacant rooms…That was all the rooms.
If Angel realized the same thing, he didn’t say anything about it. They headed inside and looked around at what they were going to be stuck with for the next week. As crappy hotels went, it actually wasn’t that bad. A bit clichéd, as the decorations were of black bears, and the paintings on the wall showed nothing but the same mountain view already outside, but not exactly terrible. Besides, they weren’t going to be spending that much time in here anyway.
Chance set his suitcase down on the bed and turned to look at Angel. The musician leaned against the wall, just watching him. Uneasiness curled cold and unwelcome in his blood. “What?”
“Nothing,” Angel said, straightening up. “I was just looking at your ass. It’s a lot nicer than that one behind the desk.”
He sighed. Clearly there was no winning here. Did that mean it was time to cut his losses or keep pushing at it? Before he could make a decision, Angel moved over and kissed him maybe a little harder than the situation called for. Their lips crushed together roughly before he pulled back, obviously satisfied at having laid down his claim. “So, should we go shopping?”
“Sure,” Chance said. “As long as you promise to be nice to the people working.”
“Huh…Even if they look at you?”
“Should I start harassing people when they look at you?”
“Well, that’s the thing, Chance. No one looks at me. I’m a dime a dozen. I’ve seen a ton of guys in my lifetime who could all be my exact clone. But you…you’re something special. And the world knows it. It’s just…I got to you first. I have to make sure no one takes you away from me. You make me feel.”
Chance followed after Angel as they headed off down the street, thoughts whirling anxiously in the back of his mind. Angel took risks to make himself feel things, one after the other. He didn’t want to think about the inevitable day when Angel moved on to the next person who could make him feel.
They headed off down the street. Angel reached out and grabbed onto Chance’s hand, holding it tightly. Chance blinked up at him but chose not to comment on it. He didn’t want to risk having it end, so he tangled his fingers with Angel’s. The size difference between their hands felt as slightly uncomfortable as ever; experimentally, he rearranged their grip until it felt better.
Angel glanced over and smiled at him. “Better?”
“Much,” Chance replied, stepping sideways so that their hips brushed together.
“Don’t tempt me.” Angel lowered his voice. “If you tease me, I’ll have to suck your dick in public.”
Chance put a finger to his lips and smiled. They walked on, gathering a few glances here and there. However, Colorado was very gay-friendly and most of the looks tossed their way were encouraging smiles or otherwise relatively blank, as though the sight of two men holding hands had grown commonplace.
I wish it was like this everywhere. I feel almost normal.
They went in every shop that caught their interest, mingling with a crowd of other tourists that sometimes was almost impossible to move through. Most of the stores were the typical tourist-type objects with apparel, jewelry, and knickknacks in a variety of forms: keychain accents, snow globes, bear statues, the works. The thing was, Chance knew the shops were really all the same but he ran into them with the same fervor each and every time. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to know, to see everything. Angel followed obediently along behind him, but he didn’t seem to have much interest in the sale items himself.
Instead, he seemed to care more about what Chance wanted. He threw himself into that, fetching shirts in the proper sizes and holding them up in front of Chance. He brought hats, slapping them down on top of Chance’s head at random times, and fetching scarves to wrap around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.
Chance highly suspected that Angel kissed him every time that he thought someone was looking at them. He didn’t mind too much, though. A kiss was a kiss, and at least it wasn’t full-blown aggression for no reason whatsoever.
Up one street and down the other, they started passing by restaurants and candy shops. One old building showcased a man making taffy right in the window, winding a huge, sticky roll of candy across rollers over and over and over. A woman out on the street, elderly and with her white hair pulled up in a bun, passed out samples of taffy made in the same way. Even she smiled at Chance and Angel as they walked up to her with their hands clasped together, absolutely no judgment in her eyes at all. There was no judgment anywhere. This was a tourist city and there had been stranger things witnessed than two men who might or might not be in love. A newspaper page hung up in the window, of a deer herd breaking into that very candy shop and eating their fill, attested to that fact.
They hit a music store, the only one Angel showed real interest in for the sake of interest alone. Now it was his turn to drag Chance inside. He cooed over the guitars, plucking experimentally at their strings.
Eventually, one of the workers wandered over to them. “Sorry,” she apologized. A scorpion tattoo shivered at the corner of her mouth, venomous tail curling up over one thing eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you were in here.”
“Yeah,” Angel said, nodding emphatically as he looked around the room. “You’re real busy today.”
They were the only ones in the whole store.
Chance braced himself for more of that bad attitude, but Angel sounded different this time. Teasing. And the employee laughed politely, clearly not bothered at all. “You wouldn’t believe the lunch rush.”
Chance smiled tentatively.
The girl put out one hand and leaned against the hood of a nearby grand piano. A thin, light fuzz of hair protruded from her armpit, so delicate as to not be offensive at all. “So, you two must be tourists. What kinda tourists go to a music shop?”
“The kind where one of them is a musician.” Angel flashed a charming smile. “I’m acoustic. Angel Frost.”
I can’t believe I forgot I didn’t even know how his last name!
“Angel Frost…” The girl rolled the name across her tongue. A stud flashed in the bright lights from above, silver against pink. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before, but maybe only once. You must run in some pretty small circles there, Acoustic Angel.”
“I don’t stick in one place for very long,” he replied. “You play yourself?”
“All the time,” she shot back.
Oh.
Chance gritted his teeth, blood suddenly pumping hard. For the first time in his life, his nostrils flared. This must be how Angel felt when he didn’t want anyone looking at him. He understood now, but only a little. This wasn’t anything to get violent over.
The girl must have seen the look on Chance’s face because she immediately put her hands up and took a small step back. “Sorry, hon. I misunderstood. Didn’t mean to try and get between anything.”
Chance relaxed. It was an honest mistake. “That’s okay. What do you play?”
“I’m bass guitar,” she replied.
Angel nodded thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. Chance could practica
lly see the wheels turning in his head. “That must mean you’re in a band. Bass usually doesn’t do well on its own.”
“Well, you’d be right. I’m Lucille of Lucifer Rising.” Lucille suddenly narrowed her eyes in return, thinking hard as well. Chance was fascinated. They bore the same expression, absolutely identical right down to the particular arch of their eyebrows. “I bet if you travel around a lot, you like to get gigs wherever you can, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Angel replied. “Was hoping to catch one here unless you’ve got the market cornered.”
“Ha! Not likely. But, are you any good? Actually, scratch that. You’re biased.” Lucille turned to Chance. The scorpion at the corner of her mouth quirked when she smiled. “You strike me as the kind of little guy who secretly doesn’t take bullshit from anyone. Like, if Jesus came down and told you that the Earth was flat, you’d argue with him. So, tell me, little buddy. Is he any good?”
I could lie.
But, he’d never been a very good liar. And besides, it would be doing everyone in the room a disservice if he did. Chance shuffled his feet a little. “I actually haven’t heard him play yet, so I don’t know.”
One of those razor-thin eyebrows rose. “You haven’t heard your boyfriend play his guitar? I could understand that if he was a regular Joe-Schmoe, but a musician? That’s his life, man.”
Chance blushed. Angel tried to step in front of him, to end the conversation, but suddenly he didn’t want that. This wasn’t even a confrontation. Lucille was still smiling despite her skepticism. There was no reason he couldn’t finish this conversation on his own, so he reached out and placed his hand on Angel’s hip to push him back out of the way. Looking a little stunned and confused, Angel did so.
“We aren’t exactly boyfriends,” Chance tried to explain. Was that something you were supposed to tell a total stranger?
“You’re taking a road trip together, so I figure that’s about as close to being boyfriends as you can get.” Lucille folded her arms and shook her head. “But that’s none of my business. I’m just saying. But anyway…”