Refraction

by BA Tortuga

  “I know, Marge. Believe me, I know him. I just had a hard time accepting his priorities. Or… his compulsions. There’s this point where even his imagination hits a roadblock. I’m not sure I’d ever have been able to compete.” But it wasn’t a competition. He’d started to realize that. Things would have to coexist.

  “I understand. It’s like Tuck says, there’s only so long he can pretend to be like everyone else. A foolish old woman can be excused for hoping her favorite guy got his happily ever after, right?” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Let’s talk about more pleasant things. What excitement do you have planned for the summer?”

  They had the happy. Just not the ever after. “Well, as long as you’re asking.” He leaned across the table like he was telling her a secret. “I’m waiting to hear about a huge shoot—a centerfold ad—for Calvin Klein.” There’d been some kind of production delay, but Michael said he was supposed to hear something next week. “Soon. Next week.”

  “Oh, how exciting!” She beamed at him. “That’s quite a coup. Good for you. That’s fabulous. Good luck.”

  “Thank you. My agent is super optimistic.” When he got it, he was going to text Tucker. He’d already decided Tucker needed to know. Maybe a picture of his contract or something. “That would start shooting right away, so I’d have a busy summer.”

  “That’s amazing news. Seriously. I wish you all the best.” She lifted her glass. “Cheers.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled at her and clinked glasses. No wonder Tucker loved her so much. She had a heart as big as the city itself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  LORD, IT was hot.

  Tucker turned on the big fan and stared at the Pandora’s box he was making. He wasn’t sure what would go inside, what was going to hide within, but he was having a ball making something new, something different. The paintings were almost everything, but sometimes he wanted to make something new.

  Sometimes he wanted to play.

  He grabbed his hammer and pounded away, sweat pouring from him as he worked.

  By the time he was ready to call it a day, he was drenched but felt great, as if releasing all that sweat was cleansing somehow. He had just found himself a towel to rub his face and neck dry, when he heard his phone chirping at him. The text that was waiting for him was from Calvin and had come in a couple of hours ago, but he’d been making way too much noise to hear it.

  Is this Tucker? From Texas?

  Huh.

  Calvin shouldn’t have forgotten him. He sent a photo every day.

  It is.

  Dude. Finally. Can I call you? This is his roommate, Timmy.

  Please.

  His phone rang instantly. Oh God, please let Calvin be okay. Please. Please.

  Timmy didn’t even give him time to say hello. “Tucker, dude. Thanks for letting me call. I’m freaking out, man.”

  “Wh-what’s wrong?” he croaked out. He blinked, the sound of his own voice strange and odd.

  “I don’t know. Two days ago Cal left for a meeting with his agent. He didn’t come home that night, and the next day I got a call from the cops saying they found him passed out by some coffee shop near the Midtown library. They put him in Metropolitan Hospital overnight, and I just brought him home this morning. He won’t say anything to me, and he looks like shit. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “Let me talk to him.” He grabbed a bottle of water and sucked it down. God. Cold. Whoa.

  “All right. Good luck.” There was a little shuffling, and Tucker heard a long sigh.

  “I’m fine.” Calvin’s voice sounded like he’d been swallowing glass.

  “Hey, honey. You don’t sound fine.”

  “I have a cold. Timmy shouldn’t have called you. I’ll scold him. Go back to work.”

  “Oh.” He walked outside, not wanting the sound of Calvin’s voice in the studio. “I miss you.”

  “But you have pretty flowers and birds and things keeping you happy.”

  “I sent those to make you smile.” Lord, he’d fucked up again somehow, hadn’t he? “I’m sorry.”

  There was dead air on the line for a minute, and when Calvin finally spoke again, he sounded even worse, if that was possible. “I can’t do this. Not right now. I can’t go there right now. I should go. I’m going to hang up, okay? But I love you. I have to go.”

  “I love you. Be good to you.” He could feel himself becoming less and less, and he wanted to go bathe. Please God, he prayed, let my demons not have found a way to get Calvin.

  The call disconnected, and a text came through not three seconds later from some random number.

  Really, dude? That’s it? (this is Timmy)

  Tucker stared at the phone like it was a snake that was going to bite him. What was this? What the hell? He didn’t understand what the fuck these people wanted from him. You should never have left home. This is where you stay.

  He closed his eyes, his feet leading him into his house, the air conditioner set on deep freeze.

  Hello? I mean, you do get that he put himself into the hospital, right? Over what I have no idea, but you want me to be his knight in shining armor here? He loves you. Where the hell are you? Man the fuck up, cowboy.

  Fuck you.

  Who the fuck did this piece of shit motherfucker think he was? Last time Tucker checked, Calvin was more than capable of demanding whatever the fuck he wanted, whether it was reasonable or not. So what if Calvin loved him? At some point the fact that the man couldn’t cope with him superseded all that. All those pictures and Calvin hadn’t so much as told him anything. It was a waste of light. This whole thing had been a waste of light.

  I’m no one’s knight

  Okay. Well sorry I interrupted your day then. You have a good one. I got him.

  Tucker shot off a text to Calvin. What the actual fuck is going on, honey? Why is your roommate bitching at me? Have y’all lost your minds up there or is it just me?

  There was a long silence and then his phone lit up.

  I didn’t get the centerfold shoot

  and I don’t really remember where I’ve been for the last two days

  Timmy was scared

  I’m sorry

  I love you

  I can’t do this without you anymore I tried I swear I tried I’m sorry

  please send me a picture of something real

  something that matters

  He took a picture of the ice skates he’d ordered from eBay. They were right there, sitting on his kitchen counter. Then the silly stuffed bagel, the shaving scissors, the ticket stub from the movie they’d gone to see.

  I’ll send you a plane ticket. I can pick you up anytime

  Will you? I’ll come. I need all these fucking lights to go off for a while

  I hear you. I got your back. Will email your info. You pack. It’s hot here.

  He stared down at his phone, wondering how the world had changed so fast. Again. Still, Calvin wanted to come, and Tucker wanted Calvin, so he logged on to the laptop and got Calvin the soonest first-class ticket to Austin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  CALVIN HAD never flown first class. He felt like a king. Or like the President. Some big celebrity. He got a croissant, and hot scented towels, and a real glass for his water. With ice.

  He’d put out his jeans shorts with the lace around the legs and his sparkly tank top before bed, and in the morning, they had turned into knee-length khaki shorts, a red T-shirt, and a navy baseball hat.

  Silly Timmy.

  He still felt like hell, mostly just really tired, but he’d slept on the plane some, and honestly? He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but seeing his man.

  He pulled his baseball cap onto his head as he got off the plane. He had a plain black carry-on full of his important stuff, because Timmy had also taken away his I Love New York bag with the sequins on it.

  How was Tucker supposed to recognize him?

  Tucker was standing at the bottom of a long-assed escalat
or, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a white straw cowboy hat. Calvin stared a second, because his Tucker was skinny. Like seriously-what-the-hell skinny. Then Tucker caught sight of him, and it didn’t matter, because that smile lit up the world.

  Skinny or not, was he really expected to give his tiger a man-hug? He waved and started walking the rest of the way down the escalator. Hurry it up already.

  “I can’t believe I’m here.” Screw the man-hug, Timmy. He spun his hat to the back, threw his arms around Tucker’s neck, and kissed him.

  Tucker’s arms wrapped around him, held him close for a long minute like he was precious. “Did you check bags, honey?”

  “Yeah, I have a suitcase. It’s so good to see you. I missed you.” I’m sorry I’m a mess, why haven’t you been eating, you need to call people, they worry, I should have texted you back, will you kiss me again? So many things in his head, he tried to breathe and make them all wait.

  Tucker smelled so good, like everything he’d missed but more, and those arms were exactly what he needed. He could already feel his soul starting to stitch itself back together.

  “I missed you like a lost limb.” Tucker leaned in, took another soft, gentle kiss, resting their foreheads together for a second. “Come on, let’s get your bag and we’ll go.”

  They waited at the carousel until his bag came around. It was large and plain black, one that Michael had bought him the first time they went to Paris for a shoot. He found it easily, recognizing the leopard strap around the outside.

  “Hang on.” He turned Tucker just so and then leaned up and kissed him on the cheek as he snapped a selfie. He showed it to Tucker. There was a sign over Tucker’s head that read “Austin.”

  “We’re cute, right? Just let me text….”

  Tucker chuckled softly and took his suitcase. “Tell him I promise not to eat you up.”

  “I will. He told me to apologize to you, by the way. What do you want me to tell Marge?”

  Tucker shook his head, shrugged, the motion awkward and natural, all at the same time. “That I got you, I guess.”

  “Okay…,” he said, thumbs flying. “Tucker says he’s got me and….” He looked at Tucker. “Sends his love, right?”

  “Always.” Oh. Okay, that was right. That smile was real and fond and yeah. Right on. Better.

  He finished his text and sent it off with a smile, sure already that this visit was going to be good for them both. “Okay, lead on, tiger.”

  Tucker hadn’t been lying about the heat. Walking outside was like stepping into a sauna, but Tucker walked him across the street to a parking garage filled with a thousand shiny trucks. “I’m over here.”

  Tucker clicked his key fob, and a huge red truck lit up. “I’ll put your bag in the back. There’s a cover.”

  He practically squealed, he was so delighted. “I love your truck!” He hadn’t been in a truck since he lived in Vermont, and the trucks they drove were nowhere near this fancy. He let Tucker put his bag in and ran around to the passenger side, eager to check out the inside. “It’s so sexy!”

  “Thank you, sir. I like her just fine.” Tucker leaned over, opened the door for him, and kissed him as he loaded up, the leather seats soft as butter.

  “If anyone had picked me up in a truck like this in high school?” He whistled. “That would have been one hot night.” He reached over and turned on the radio.

  “My pickup when I was a teenager was great. It was a jacked-up beast, bright yellow. I loved it.”

  He had to shake his head. He hadn’t expected Tucker to drive a screaming red truck. He’d figured it would be way more understated. So the bright yellow jacked-up thing just made him laugh. “And who did you pick up in that pickup, cowboy?”

  He needed a cowboy hat. He could totally rock a hat. When in Texas….

  “I drove that truck everywhere. I loved it. Are you hungry, honey? Austin has some of everything. Once we head to my place, there’s a lot of nothing.”

  A little, but he was already determined to fatten Tucker back up. Also, Tucker had bought him a one-way ticket, so he didn’t think he’d be working for the near future anyway. Part of him wondered, in that perfect-world way you do, if there was work for him in Austin. “I am. Pick somewhere you like. I want to learn about your world like you learned about mine.”

  “Salt Lick it is.” Tucker drove like he was born to it, easy in his skin as they left the airport. “We’re southeast of Austin, and we’re heading southwest from here.”

  It was like the Old West—all prairies—and those were cows. Right there. By the airport.

  “Salt Lick. Cool.” He drew a little map with his fingers. Southeast of Austin, headed southwest from… ah. Got it. Back home was so small that if you went southwest you were in New York or southeast you ended up in New Hampshire.

  The terrain here was flatter, but the cows were like home. The airport was way bigger, though. In Burlington you just stepped off the plane onto the tarmac and waited right there for your luggage. This place was a far cry from that.

  He was very used to traveling either on business or to somewhere tropical to thaw out in February. Something about this—just a visit to another city, driving a regular highway in a regular truck with no agenda—just felt like freedom.

  Tucker reached out, every now and again, and touched him, touched his leg, his hand, his arm.

  He smiled, the touches were so warm. Finally he just rested his hand on Tucker’s thigh and left it. “I miss the bench seats. I’d slide right over there.”

  He wasn’t worried at all that they weren’t each talking a million miles an hour. He used to feel like if they weren’t talking, something was wrong, or he was boring, or something. But Tucker had taught him to listen in other ways. There was a lot to be said, but not all of it needed talking about.

  “Once we get done with lunch, you can. We’ll be on back roads, and no one will be looking to stop us.”

  Calvin nodded. He’d look forward to that. He looked at his skinny Tucker, examining the harder line of his jaw and the collarbone poking through his T-shirt, and wondered how this was going to work out. The only thing he knew for sure was that it had to this time. It still seemed impossible, but he knew the alternative could well be too much for them both.

  Tucker’s heartbreak was visible on him, and Calvin had just driven himself hard working so he didn’t have to acknowledge his own. He wasn’t even going to think about going back to New York until they’d figured each other out.

  Looking at the landscape, he was pretty sure he’d have plenty of time to think about it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THEY’D ORDERED a single plate of brisket, and between them, they still brought some home.

  Tucker had been running his ass off for the last twenty-four hours, buying groceries, cleaning the house, pulling the paintings off the walls and storing them in the little air-conditioned room that Granny had used as a sewing room. Now he was finally bringing Calvin home.

  The drive was peaceful, the day bright and warm, and it felt… right. Good.

  Calvin was leaning against his arm, and Tucker wasn’t sure whether he was sleeping or not, but it didn’t matter. He could feel Calvin’s steady heartbeat.

  “This is so nice. The drive and everything. Thank you for lunch.” Calvin sighed, sliding a hand over Tucker’s knee. “Tell me what you think I’m going to like best about your house.”

  “The pool. That’s the best part.” Tucker spent hours out there. Hell, sometimes he slept in the pool, soaking up the sun.

  “Oh, I can’t wait! I brought a bathing suit. It’s hot, tiger. You’re gonna love it.” The soft kiss on his neck made him shiver. “Although, can I wear a hot suit around you? I kinda need you to be paying attention so I don’t drown.”

  “I would never let you drown.” He didn’t mention that he swam naked, because he wanted to see Calvin’s swimsuit. No one wore clothes better. Ever.

  “Purely selfish motives, of course.” He loved h
ow Calvin’s laughter filled the cab. He’d been worried at the way Calvin’s eyes looked when he got off the plane, tired and a little distant. And he’d worried at Calvin’s low energy too. The little spark Calvin usually had was there, but it wasn’t as bright. This, though, the easy laughter, was better. It sounded more like what he’d been missing.

  Whatever happened, he would… what? What would he do? Stop painting? That couldn’t happen. He would just keep that in the barn where it belonged. The house and pool, he’d keep free from crazy.

  “Do you just get used to all this… space? Everything all spread out? It feels weird.”

  “I was born here, honey. It’s just home.” Tucker didn’t think about it much.

  “I bet you thought about it in the city, though, huh? No wonder you didn’t like the subway. That’s gotta feel pretty closed in after all of this.”

  “I don’t do well underground.” Tuck. Stop it. No crazy. Please. “Of course, we don’t even have basements here.”

  “Well, I guess if you have this much space to spread out, you don’t need a basement anyway. Geez. Is everything a trip around here?” Calvin chucked again, vibrating against him. “Feels like the longest drive ever.”

  “It is. I’m half hour from anything, really. I like it. It’s quiet. Dark.” Peaceful. Home.

  Calvin nodded. “Dark is good. I haven’t had dark in a long time. Or much quiet, really, either. I appreciate you having me in your space. I know it’s probably strange for you.”

  “No. You’ll never be strange. You fit in my space.”

  “I hope so. I want that to be true. I don’t feel like I fit in my own right now.” He felt Calvin shrug against him.

  He got that. He really did. Sometimes he didn’t remember fitting in anywhere, even though he knew better.

  “Tell me… what you’ve been painting.”

  He shook his head. “I’m working on a dark series. All horror. I’m not sure whether I’ll show it.”

  They were hurt and shame, teeth and claws and tearing.