by David Connor
AC was out of breath just listening.
“I can go up to a million,” Rohan teased.
“I g-give. W-we -b-both win.”
“Going once, going twice, sold, with we both win!” Rohan fell against AC. AC could feel his breath now, even if he couldn’t see it. They were close, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, almost mouth to mouth.
“Warm-up time!” Murphy hollered.
“I guess I should go.” Rohan stepped back but took AC’s hands.
“Okay. B-break a leg.” AC looked around. “Ev-everyone break a leg!”
“You’ll watch from the wings,” Rohan said. “Real close.”
AC liked how close they were now. “I’ll have t-t-to tell m-my brothers. The-they’re all h-here. We were g-g-gonna sit t-together.”
“La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.”
The warmup started without them. “Do that, and then come back.” Rohan joined the scale partway. “La, la…”
AC came in at the end. “La, la, la. Okay.” Though he hated having to let Rohan go, he knew the show was going to be spectacular. With one last glance and smile, he reached for the doorknob to head upstairs.
“Atticus.” Just outside the entrance to the house, AC turned to see all five siblings approaching. One of them had called out.
“You b-better get your s-s-seats,” he told them.
“In a sec,” Bartholomew said.
“Here.” Gabriel handed over a small wrapped box.
“W-what’s th-this?”
“A gift, knucklehead.” Emmanuel nudged him.
“C-c-Christmas…”
“Is tomorrow. Yeah, we know,” Sullivan said. “We want you to have it now.”
“Open it,” Montgomery ordered.
AC tore into it. Despite his newly rediscovered Christmas spirit, he had a hard time forcing excitement once done. “B-b-business c-cards.” AC had about a million business cards already.
“Read one,” Gabriel said.
AC cracked open the box and pulled one out. “A-Atticus Maughan Art. Atticus.”
“Atticus,” Sullivan repeated.
“All those gifts we’ve given you with your name on them…” Gabriel took the card from AC’s hand. “We’ve been dropping hints a while now.”
“It’s about time you’re Atticus again, don’t you think?” Montgomery asked. “Cornelius, Bartholomew, Sullivan, Emmanuel, Gabriel, Montgomery, even Indianapolis, AC just doesn’t fit.”
AC smiled. He almost felt like Atticus again. “Y-yes. T-thank you.”
“And look.” Gabriel shoved his phone in AC’s face.
“Oh, c-c-come on!”
“You’re bigtime now. Bigger online presence. Big, big, big partnership with the biggest of the big, and they’ve been after you to put up a photo since the ink dried.”
“Th-th-that one?”
AC’s face was grinning back at him from the top of his products page. He had a Santa hat on his head and Spud in his arms. “At l-least the c-cat is photo-g-genic. C-c-Christmas is al-almost over, though.”
“Not in retail. Gift cards, money from Grandma…people shop for a while after,” Gabriel argued. “That face, the hat, the cat, all three will draw them in until we switch to another for Valentine’s Day. I’m seeing a diaper, a bow and arrow, and wings.”
The lights flashed, signaling the show was about to start.
“N-not h-happening. I’ll l-leave th-this one up for the time b-being, though. N-now go s-s-sit down.”
The brothers had to huddle around Atticus one more time first, huddle and clinch all at once, nearly smooshing him in the middle.
The stage was decked with twelve Christmas trees, each one lit to coordinate with a drummer’s shirt, red, yellowish green, lavender, teal, pink, yellow, purple, true green, light blue, orange, a darker blue, and maroon. A huge nutcracker with a rainbow scarf at his neck stood guard down left. His twin was posted down right. The silhouette of a drummer boy with the North Star overhead was projected onto the back wall, and a huge wooden sleigh with eight not so tiny reindeer stretched across the floor in front of the entire setup. AC wondered if every show featured such fancy set design. Was it the venue’s doing or the band’s? If it all belonged to the 12 Drummers Drumming, if they had to ship it all ahead, no wonder they were broke.
Either way, it made for one hell of a show. The guys were never still. They ran from timpani drums, to a snare set, from the xylophone, to the glockenspiel, and the bongos, to the gong, not just at the end of a song, but partway through some. Murphy, Rohan, Rob, and Terrel did a Barbershop Quartet rendition of “Here Comes Santa Claus” from the sleigh, as seven others provided percussion in the background.
Where’s Manny?
Manny joined them during the final verse, fully decked out in St. Nick regalia to toss candy into the crowd. Grumpy no more, he was the jolliest Santa Atticus had ever seen. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas. Feliz Navidad!” The children in the audience loved him, as did some of the adult gay men.
Emery and Ixaax did somersaults to “We Need a Little Christmas,” and Carlton juggled during Rohan’s speed-singing to “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
“The Juggling Spy.” AC thought that would make a great book title.
The performance sped by. Ninety minutes with no intermission sounded like a lot, but before AC knew it, he was feeling a little down, because Rohan and the others were into their final set.
Bopping to “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas,” he agreed, it was the best time of the year. Terrel and Ixaax were singing right in front of him. They turned, and both crooked a finger, motioning him forward.
“Me?” AC mouthed.
They nodded. AC went another way, turning his head side to side.
Once again, it was hard to say no to Terrel. He wouldn’t allow it this time. Before AC knew what was happening, he was dragged onto the stage during the verse about mistletoe being hung where everyone could see. Everybody could see him, too, and his knees were wobbly.
AC was expecting the pronoun change that came a bit later. What he wasn’t anticipating was the two-word lyric coming as a hearty yell. “Kiss him!”
The break in the music was a surprise as well, but the biggest one of all was the gift of Rohan’s kiss, and then a second, then more, when the singing continued, and each member of the band called out, one at a time, for Rohan to give AC another.
“Kiss him twice.”
“Kiss him three times.”
“Kiss him four.”
And on and on, ending with, “Kiss him twelve for me,” as a theatre full of people went “Aww.”
“Our very first kiss,” Rohan whispered. “Twelve of them—in front of five hundred people.”
Delight turned to concern when AC noticed sly Rohan had fitted him with a mic during the chaste but lengthy make-out session. “W-w-what’s this f-for?”
“Shh. Trust me.” Rohan took AC’s hand as the others moved to different instruments. He offered a longer kiss that got a rousing ovation, leaving AC lost in some sort of dream, until “The Little Drummer Boy” intro started.
AC started to panic.
“You can do it.” Rohan looked right into his eyes. “Make a joyful noise,” he mouthed.
When the time came, he did, performing a beatbox solo right between Rohan’s and Murphy’s on the drums. The crowd went crazy. By the end of the song, they were on their feet for all twelve drummers, or thirteen, as it were.
“That w-w-was a-ma-mazing,” AC said backstage right before curtain calls.
“You were!” Rohan offered the longest kiss yet, the kind that had AC imagining him out of his 12 Drummers shirt, and everything else.
After final bows, Murphy moved to the front of the stage. “Thank you. We’re privileged this afternoon to have an extra member joining our troop. Give it up again for Atticus Maughan.”
AC nodded slightly, his grip on Rohan like a vise.
“We have something for you, Atticus. Would you come
forward?”
AC shook his head no.
“Come on,” but Rohan and the crowd urged him on, as Emery and Manny ran over from the other side of the stage.
“We got you your very own T-shirt.” Murphy signaled Manny, who handed it over.
The light peach shirt had The 12 Drummers Drumming logo on one side and Atticus printed on the other in blue.
“We got one from Spud, too.” Emery produced the cat sculpture from behind his back. It was now wearing an infant-size shirt just like AC’s, only in olive. “That makes fourteen members, just in case anyone is superstitious.”
“Put it on,” Rohan said, so AC slipped it over his sweater. A tight fit for sure, but he managed.
“Join us in our last number.” Murphy nodded, and each member took his place behind an instrument. Rohan brought AC with him, to a large set of chimes. AC hadn’t been expecting an encore and figured he would just mouth the words. When he found out what the last song was, he changed his mind.
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Fa, la, la, la, la. La…”
“La, la, la.”
The fact the rest of the guys dropped out made AC stumble a bit. He was ready for it next time, though, and sang out.
“La, la, la!”
Whether or not the noise was joyful to anyone else, it sure was to him.
“Don we now our gay, gay, gay, gay, gay…” The drummers did it in a five- part harmony step, and then continued. “Apparel. Fa, la, la. La, la, la…”
And then, it was AC’s turn again. “La, la, la.”
“Troll, the ancient yuletide carol. Fa, la, la, la, la. La…”
“La. La. La!”
The Maughan brothers led the standing ovation and the call for two more encores.
Chapter 16
Mexico: A million stars! Best vacation ever!
Atticus, who was working hard to think of himself in that way again, headed down to Mexico two days after Christmas. He invited all twelve drummers along. Some of them had to go back to “real life,” though. Emery, Rick, Hewlett, Murphy, and Carlton had work. Ixaax wanted to talk to his parents. He decided not to wait for January.
“C-call me if I c-c-can h-help in any way,” Atticus told him.
Yoshi returned to the hospital with Krissy, and Rob just wanted to get home. That left Terrel, Manny, Stone, and Rohan to tag along for some fun in the sun.
Manny muttered his displeasure right off at the notion of two more days and nights in the van, but he perked up once they arrived and he was close to his parents again. The others wouldn’t see much of him until he invited everyone for an authentic Mexican meal on December 30.
Down to a foursome, Terrel was eager to hit up a clothing optional beach. Stone, on the other hand, was reluctant to partake. “Clothing optional, it says. I opt to keep mine on.”
Rohan only stripped down after dark, near the end of their stay, on a night when no one was left in close proximity, and Terrel and Stone went to hit up a club.
“You w-w-won’t get any s-s-sun at n-night,” Atticus said, pressing his bare hip to Rohan’s as they strolled along, the water lapping at their toes.
“I’m more a shade kind of guy, anyway.” Rohan got even closer, and they kissed. “Tell me this.”
“Yes?”
“I’m wondering, Atticus…Are my kisses less exciting without an audience around to ooh and aww?”
“Hmm. Kiss me a-again and w-we’ll s-see.”
Rohan obliged.
“Ooh.” Atticus stole another. “Aww.” Then, after number three, he applauded.
“Shh. Someone will hear—and see.”
“I t-think we’re alone.” It was a bit of a bummer, having Rohan nude for the first time in the dark and standing upright. “Just th-the two of u-us.” At the same time, AC enjoyed the romance of walking naked at the edge of the water hand in hand.
They’d seen their movie on December 26, Aquaman, after taking in a car show over in Connecticut. That made four dates, counting the one the first night at the motel in Vermont and the ride the morning after. Down in Guadalajara, they’d taken in The Day of Tequila Experience on day two. After learning the process of how it’s made, they tasted several varieties. Atticus, a regular in Mexico, could hold his tequila quite well. Rohan, not so much. By the time the tour was over, he’d become chatty and bold. “You know who I like, Atticus? I like you.”
“I l-like you, t-too, Rohan.” Atticus steadied him as they waited on the corner for a taxi, amongst the brightly colored buildings along the stone streets.
“I’m glad our bus broke down in Texas a week ago. I’m glad you were having pancakes when it did, and I’m glad our bus broke down. I want to fuck you,” Rohan had boldly and loudly announced.
“Shh.” Atticus smiled when a couple arm in arm glanced their way. “I’m g-g-glad your bus broke down, too,” he’d whispered, the exact opposite of Rohan’s near shouting. “And I’m g-glad you want to fuck me.”
“Can I fuck you now?”
“Can we u-use our indoor voice?”
“We’re outside.”
Atticus was unable to hold back a chuckle. “There’s n-no arguing with th-that logic. We’re w-w-waiting for a cab, though.”
“I’ll fuck you in the cab.” The expression on Rohan’s face indicated he thought that was the best idea ever. Unfortunately, once in that cab, and for the rest of that afternoon and night, he had never been awake enough to make good on it.
“Am I an embarrassing drunk?” He’d asked the next morning, one hand rubbing his temple, the other in front of his mouth, shielding Atticus from what he must have assumed was offensive morning breath.
“You were a-adorable.”
They were sharing a double bed in a mid-priced Mexican hotel room done in dull shades of beige and burnt orange. Rohan lifted the covers and peered underneath them. “How come you left my underwear on?”
“I d-don’t have y-your underwear on.”
“I meant on me, Atticus Maughan.”
“Oh.” Atticus kissed him on the forehead. “I’m a g-gent-gentleman. You’re going to n-need most of today in b-bed.”
“With you?”
Atticus fixed the covers. “I’m m-meeting S-Stone and Terrel f-f-for beach time. Y-you’re welcome t-to join us.”
“Is the sun out?”
“It is.”
“Maybe when it goes down.”
The next kiss was on the lips, morning breath be damned. “S-see you th-then. I’m t-taking my phone. C-call if you m-m-miss me.”
Atticus’s phone had rung the moment he’d clicked the door shut.
Recovering in bed together from a hangover, another couple of movies, a celebrity wax museum, a boat trip around Lake Chapala, a couple of restaurants, the beach, and a dance club called 7 Sins for all of five minutes finished out the week. By New Year’s Eve, Rohan and Atticus had been on ten dates in all.
“What should we do on our last night here?” Rohan asked.
Stone had to be back for school by January 4. Only a foursome would travel back to the States together, to drop him off in North Carolina. Terrel would catch a plane from Vermont back to Berkley, Michigan, while Manny would stay behind, travelling home to New Mexico after the Dio de los Santos Reyes. They all planned on spending New Year’s Day together, but the night before, Atticus and Rohan were left to themselves, while Manny took Terrel and Stone out on the town. Manny had told them all to put on red underwear. Doing so, superstition claimed, would bring love in the coming year. Atticus, recalling the poem Manny had recited about wanting to kiss a certain man before Christmas, wondered if he wanted that man to be either Terrel or Stone. Christmas was gone, but a New Year’s Eve kiss was just as sweet.
“W-we could h-hit up that g-gay bar a-again.” Atticus sat on the edge of the bed. He was wrapped in a towel after a late day shower, a pair of red Calvin boxer briefs beside him. Not that he needed luck, the way things were progressing.
Rohan cringed. “I’m either too
old or too conservative for water raining down from the ceiling on me and hundreds of half-naked strangers while music blares so loud I can’t even hear myself think.”
Atticus smiled. “G-good. Me, too.”
“And no tequila.” Rohan rubbed his head some more, though his hangover had to be long gone so many days later.
A quiet night in seemed just the plan. Atticus envisioned a romantic evening of candlelight, music, and champagne in their room. “I could not get dressed.” He let the towel fall to the floor, but Rohan surprised him with other plans.
“You have to, at least for a little while. The red underwear.” Rohan picked them up and tossed them in Atticus’s direction. “Remember?”
They started with a stroll along the water, hand in hand, as sunset settled over the beach, a gorgeous display featuring nearly every shade in the wardrobe of the 12 Drummers Drumming. “I’m g-glad you g-got me out of the r-room,” Atticus said, the declaration being only partially true. It would have taken very little convincing for Atticus to stay in that bed, so he and Rohan could finally make love. “This is t-t-too b-beautiful to miss.” No half-truths there.
Rohan took a detour along their walk, leading them to a secluded spot adjacent to the beach.
“My van.”
“I had Manny drive it over while you showered. Good thing you are very particular about your keys and leave them in the same exact spot every time. I knew just where to tell Manny they’d be.”
Atticus’s breath was taken away when Rohan opened the door in the rear. There were flameless candles, a velvety throw, and dozens of paper flowers, a veritable rainbow of them, scattered all over the floor in the back. “Y-you p-planned this all along?”
“Maybe. That’s why we walked around the other way, so you wouldn’t notice it wasn’t in the lot. We’re still shy,” Rohan said. He said it as he began to unbutton Atticus’s shirt. “But one of us has to make a move.”
Atticus smiled. “I w-w-was gonna. I’m p-pretty sure I w-was gonna.”
“So, we’re on the same page, then?”