by Nico Jaye
It would be easy for Trick to tell Edwin he was too tired for guests, or insist that Edwin would have a better time somewhere else, but he didn’t. Truthfully, he enjoyed spending time with Edwin. He was probably a shade on the wrong side of crazy, but he was kind and he made Trick feel happy.
He’d be fucked if he could label exactly what their relationship was. Sometimes it felt like a friendship, sometimes it felt like a mentorship, and sometimes he felt like a supervisor making sure Edwin didn’t say or do anything too insane, but whatever vague guidelines they were working under, Trick knew at the heart of it, he enjoyed spending time with him.
“It’s not going to be fancy.”
“That’s all right. I like not fancy.”
APPARENTLY THERE were quite a few other people spending their Thanksgiving dinners with a grocery store chicken on their tables, because when Trick and Edwin got to the store, the case was conspicuously empty.
“Shit.” Trick swore under his breath.
“Must it be poultry?” Edwin asked, looking on dismayed.
“Traditionally. Do you not celebrate Thanksgiving in your family?”
“My family has their own traditions. We’ve never had Thanksgiving in my house.”
Trick planted his hands on his hips. “Well, now I feel even shittier about your first Thanksgiving being turkey free.”
Edwin paused for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Trick watched him as his expression turned from one of uncertainty to determination. Trick followed as Edwin marched to the butcher’s section of the store and scanned the cases.
“What are you looking for?” Trick asked, but Edwin didn’t answer. Instead he reached forward and grabbed a Cornish game hen from the bin and tossed it into the basket.
“What else is traditional for a Thanksgiving feast?” Edwin asked.
“You want to cook a pigeon for dinner?” Trick asked, eyeing the tiny bird.
“In a way. What goes with the turkey?”
“My dad always made turkey with gravy, cranberry sauce, carrots, green beans, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie for dessert.”
“Of course.”
Trick looked on as Edwin hurried through the place, tossing one of each of the vegetables mentioned into the basket. One. A single cranberry. A solitary green bean. A lonely sweet potato. A solo carrot. And finally, one of those decorative miniature pumpkins Trick had seen adorning the counter at the coffee shop downstairs.
They paid for their finds, and Trick kept his questions to himself and prepared for some sort of bizarre food montage once they got back to his place.
AS THE door clicked shut in Trick’s apartment, Edwin turned toward him, a serious expression on his face.
“There is something I must tell you,” Edwin said, eyes trained on Trick’s. Trick took the bag of groceries from Edwin and placed it on the kitchen counter.
“Okay.” Trick unpacked the bag as he waited for Edwin to continue.
“I am different than most other people,” Edwin said carefully.
Trick bit his lip to keep from laughing. Was he serious? Did he think Trick hadn’t picked up on that?
“I know, but everyone is a bit different in their own way,” Trick said, channeling an after-school special, trying to reassure him.
“I am a fairy.”
Trick nodded. “I know. You let me kiss you. That’s pretty good evidence if I ever saw any.”
Edwin looked confused.
“I know you’re gay,” Trick clarified.
“I… I am trying to tell you that I am a fairy. A fairy godfather in training. Your fairy godfather in training, to be precise.”
Trick gaped at him. This guy, who he knew nothing about, who he’d invited into his home, was crazier than he thought. Would he get violent if Trick questioned his delusion? What should he do? Did he need to call the cops? The ambulance? Trick had no idea what to do about a guy claiming to be a fairy godfather.
“You don’t believe me.” Edwin looked crestfallen.
“No, no. I do. You just caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not every day someone tells you they’re a fairy. I’m guessing there aren’t too many of you guys.” His pulse quickened. Could he run? Would Edwin hurt him?
Despite the fear that coursed through him, he still saw a goodness in Edwin. Maybe he’d hit his head or something. Could it be drugs? Maybe if Trick got him some help….
Edwin reached into his pocket, and Trick stared, frozen in place as Edwin pulled a stick out. That stick… it almost looked… familiar. Edwin flicked it forward, and Trick watched as the vegetables began to shimmer and wobble, like their edges were disappearing, and then with a poof of colorful smoke—and was that glitter?—where the groceries had been was a full Thanksgiving dinner.
Trick could smell the turkey from where he stood, and he watched the vegetables steaming.
“What the fuck?” he asked, pretty sure his jaw had literally hit the floor. “What the fuck just happened?”
“I magicked us a proper Thanksgiving dinner. It’s my job to make sure you get everything your heart desires. I have the power to make it happen. I am not always successful on the first try, but Frederick is confident that will improve with practice.”
“You’re my fairy… my fairy….”
“Your fairy godfather,” Edwin finished for him, like maybe Trick was just a little slow on the uptake.
“I have a fucking fairy godfather.”
Chapter Twelve
EDWIN TILTED his head and watched Trick closely.
He seemed to be taking the news well.
If, by well, Edwin simply meant Trick had not fainted or gone off on a shouting fit about the impossibility of the very concept of a fairy godfather—or magic in general, actually.
Trick looked rather stunned, but when Edwin looked into his eyes, he could see a part of Trick at the center of his soul that believed. That wanted to believe. That needed to believe that there was good, that there was magic, that there was someone—whether in this universe or a magical one—who was looking out for him.
Edwin approached Trick slowly with his wand held loosely in one hand. “Yes, Trick. I am your fairy godfather.”
Trick stared at Edwin, his gaze unwavering, before he shook himself. “You—I—yeah, I got that part. But what does that even mean?”
“It means it’s my job to make sure you get everything your heart desires,” Edwin repeated carefully. He thought Trick quite an intelligent young man, but it was possible he needed to hear the explanation once more for something so fantastical. “I have the power—”
“No, no, I got that part, Edwin.” Trick looked down at himself, looked around his apartment, his gaze landing on various things, before turning back to look at Edwin. “What I meant was… why me? And how does that even happen? The, uh… heart’s desire stuff?”
Edwin thought about it for a moment. How much should he share with Trick? And how much should remain solely the purview of fairies and Paravale? Looking at Trick, he saw Trick had raised his brows, that glimmer of belief still present but somewhat dimmed behind a layer of confusion and skepticism.
“Suffice it to say, Trick, that the powers we fairies possess have deemed you to be worthy of a fairy godfather.” Edwin paused before adding with an embarrassed chuckle, “In training. A fairy godfather in training. I’m still learning, you see.”
Trick’s lips quirked up in a brief smile. “Well, the feast you put together looks amazing and smells even better, if that’s somehow possible.”
Edwin flushed with pleasure. “Thank you,” Edwin said warmly. He was quite proud of his ability to transmaterialize. When he started with something, he could manipulate it quite well. It was summoning from the vault that he had found difficult, but thankfully, he’d been practicing and improving since his arrival in New York. “Shall we eat? We can talk more about my duties and what is within my powers over this holiday meal.”
“Sure,” Trick said after a moment. “Let’s do that.
”
After clearing some books off the little table by the window, Trick pulled over a rickety plastic crate from the corner. “Here, take the desk chair; it’s more comfortable,” Trick said, rolling a black chair in Edwin’s direction.
Edwin furrowed his brow and aimed his wand at the crate, imagining it with chair legs, a curved back, and cushioning. “Isn’t that better?” he asked a moment later.
In the shimmery and smoky aftermath, Trick stepped back a little and let out a brief laugh. “Holy shit. Okay, um. Yeah, that’s better.”
They moved all of the prepared food onto the table, which was a cozy fit. Once they’d gathered the plates, utensils, and a small stack of paper napkins needed for their meal, Edwin and Trick sat down for dinner. Edwin was pleased to see Trick looked plenty comfortable seated on the former crate.
Wielding the largest knife he’d found in his drawers, Trick cut into the golden brown skin of the large turkey and served several slices on each of their plates. Meanwhile, Edwin helped himself to the other dishes, making sure to scoop large portions for Trick as well.
“Oh my God.”
“Oh my Fairy.”
They both looked at each other, and Trick returned the smile Edwin sent his way. The turkey was succulent and moist; all in all, the food was delicious. Edwin would like Thanksgiving dinner every day, please.
“This is incredible, Edwin.”
“I beg to differ,” Edwin teased. “It is entirely credible, and we are physically consuming it as proof of that fact.”
Trick snorted a laugh and smothered more gravy on top of his turkey. “You’re joking now, are you? Feels like a first to me.”
Edwin considered that and nodded. “Yes. It… it lightens my heart to know that you are aware of who I am now.”
“Yeah, that’s a pretty big secret to be carrying around, huh?”
“It was. I’m glad you know, and I’m glad to help you in achieving your heart’s desire.”
Trick looked up from where he was piercing a few green beans with his fork. “And how does that work exactly?”
“Well, I have powers, as you know,” Edwin said slowly. “From what I understand, there are at least two desires held dear by you.” Pausing, Edwin considered how much to share. Trick was proud and independent—how much knowledge should Edwin reveal of his goal to buy into the partnership? How much of Trick’s desire to be seen as an equal by the object of his affections? Edwin cleared his throat and continued. “There is the matter of the partnership,” Edwin said delicately, “and there is a man who holds your interest. Preston Ward?”
Trick’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed down his mouthful of beans. “You know about all that?”
“Yes, and I’m here to help to the extent of my powers—and with your permission.” Edwin sent Trick a guarded look. “I must confess I’ve already made some moves toward assistance.”
“Holy shit! That time you helped clean the office! And the contest!”
Edwin inclined his head in acknowledgment. “The former, yes, but with the latter, that was more of a… suggestion. There was no way the decision makers would have chosen your design if it weren’t already one of their top candidates. I have some influence, but cannot otherwise shape human will.”
“Okay, but… wow….” Trick looked bowled over, his eyebrows doing a complicated dance while he worked through what Edwin had said. His head popped up. “And the pizza!”
“Yes, the pizza,” Edwin said with a small chuckle. “I should not have done that so early in our acquaintance.”
Trick snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, but it was damn good pizza.”
“It was,” Edwin said, smiling at the memory. He watched Trick for a moment before turning back to his meal; he was confident Trick would say something once he’d had time to process Edwin’s revelation.
After they’d both enjoyed a little more of the food, Trick cleared his throat. “These sweet potatoes—they’re just like Dad used to make.”
Edwin looked up to catch a wistful smile playing at the corner of Trick’s lips.
“I’ve been thinking, and I….” Trick straightened in his seat, a strong resolve settling over his expression. “I want to do it on my own. The, um, the first one, at least. It means a lot to me to earn my way into the place my dad held in the business. I want to be sure I get there on my own two feet.”
Edwin inclined his head. “Understood.”
Fidgeting with the paper napkin beside his plate, Trick continued. “And, um, about Preston.”
“Yes?” Something trembled in Edwin’s stomach, and he ruthlessly suppressed it. He was Trick’s fairy godfather in training. He was here to help fulfill Trick’s heart’s desire—and that included the handsome man for whom Edwin knew Trick harbored feelings.
Trick searched Edwin’s gaze for a moment before glancing away. “I—yeah, I guess he is someone I’ve had an interest in for a while. It always felt like an impossible situation.”
“But it need not be,” Edwin said gently.
“You, uh, you said you wouldn’t change someone’s mind, though. I don’t want that, and I wouldn’t feel right about that. I’d want the person I’m interested in to be interested in me for me.”
“With good reason,” Edwin said, his voice earnest. “You’re intelligent and well-formed, and you’ve a good heart. You are worthy, Trick.”
With a short laugh, Trick rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know who it is you think I am, but I’m not really any of those things.”
“Allow me to be the judge of that. You are worthy.”
“Thanks,” Trick said after a moment, giving him a small smile. “What, er, what does this mean for you and what you can do to fulfill your—what did you call them? Duties?”
“Ah,” Edwin said, seeing Trick’s point. “While we aren’t by any means going to manipulate Preston’s thoughts, we can bring you and your superior qualities to his attention—perhaps improve the quality of your wardrobe by transforming your current items, for example. Also, one of my powers is scrylocation, through which we can find where he spends his leisure time, making it easier for you to interact.”
“Scrylo—what?”
“Scrylocation. Unlike some of my other skills, which could use practice, it’s something at which I’m fairly accomplished. I use an object of the person whom we are seeking to help find their current location.” Edwin bit his lip and leaned forward. “I confess I already took one of Preston’s business cards when I coaxed him to enter a drawing at Elixir.”
Trick’s brows shot upward. “You already planned—”
A rattling creak to the side and above them cut him off. They shared a stunned look before looking in that direction. Eventually, Trick shrugged.
“These old buildings,” Trick said dismissively. “They sometimes settle—”
Th-th-thunk-KARUUUUMPH!
A cacophonous crash inside the bathroom had Trick leaping to his feet and Edwin scrambling back in his seat, causing the desk chair to roll haphazardly a few feet away. Dust billowing out of the open door made it difficult to see.
“What the fuck!” Trick managed to shout before breaking into a coughing fit that he muffled into the sleeve of his shirt.
Once he rose to his feet, Edwin waved away the dust in front of his face and followed Trick, who had begun to approach the bathroom slowly. After flipping on the light switch, Trick came to an abrupt stop at the same time Edwin saw it.
“Shit.”
“Fizzle.”
Above their heads, water dripped down from the edges of a gaping hole, and an enormous bathtub sat square in the middle of Trick’s bathroom, surrounded by bits of wood and debris. The newest addition matched Trick’s bathtub in ugliness and boasted a pastel coral color to complement Trick’s mint green décor. Half of Trick’s bathroom was buried under the rubble. No signs of life came from above, leading Edwin to think the unit was unoccupied.
“Trick—ah, ah—” Edwin sneezed violently, then cleared
his throat. He looked at Trick, who was taking in the disaster in the bathroom with an expression close to dismay. “Trick, I mean no offense when I say this, but….”
Trick turned to him slowly, brows lifted.
“I think you should move.”
AFTER TRICK had overcome his laughter, he’d obviously agreed.
It’d taken an angry late-night conversation or two with his landlord for him to agree to release Trick from the lease, not to mention a number of threats to notify the building and safety departments and sue the management company, but eventually he’d given in.
The wee hours of the morning had arrived by the time Trick and Edwin made it back to the Pointe, where Trick bunked down on the couch underneath a ceiling that wasn’t in danger of collapsing. That was also how Edwin found himself apartment hunting with Trick the next morning, even though the Friday after Thanksgiving was typically chaos, according to Trick.
“This seems… far, Trick,” Edwin said cautiously once they stepped off the subway and onto the platform. The train had gone aboveground about forty minutes previously, and, according to the conductor’s announcements, this stop was the last on the line. Edwin had thought flushing was something one did in the restroom, but apparently it was also a location.
“Yeah, it kind of is,” Trick said as he led them toward the exit turnstiles. “I can’t really afford anything else, though, and I’m hoping that with the express train on weekdays, the commute wouldn’t make me want to stab my eyes out.”
Edwin tilted his head. “But… wouldn’t a place where eye stabbing isn’t even a factor be preferable?”
“My finances will only go so far,” Trick said with a shrug. They exited onto the bustling streets where the air was cool and held the aroma of various foods. People of all different shapes and sizes flowed around them; the shops had names in both English and other characters. “Although… I guess I do have that contest money—”