Connection - Part Six
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
Kasey follows me down the cold, sunlit street, her hair knotted up in a torn strip of her jacket, her brow furrowed in thought.
“Why do you think Gage hasn’t said anything about whatever it is Logan’s doing?” she asks, lifting her dark eyes to me. “If not to Noelle, then at least to Noah? What’s stopping him?”
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering the same thing. Maybe he doesn’t know Noah’s opinion on Logan, or… or maybe he feels like he should keep quiet out of brotherly loyalty?”
Kasey lets out an impatient sigh. “If so, then like – okay, fine, I get it, I see why he thinks he needs to be on that side. But sometimes there is a right time to defect. Rudolf Nureyev knew that in 1961, and it probably saved his life, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you.”
I look over at Kasey, my chest achingly full of fondness.
“Why would I need to be reminded, Kase-face? Of course I would never forget – whatever it is you’re talking about that we didn’t cover in history class.”
“Obviously not,” she agrees distractedly, staring off into the distance. She lets out a blissful sigh, drinking in the sight of the translucent young man leaning against the wall of the workshop. “Speaking of handsome historical men! God, look at him. He’s so hot. You’re so hot!”
She adds this last part in a shout, which startles Will upright. He blushes along his pearly cheekbones, then comes to meet us, wearing a reproving expression that draws a giggle from Kasey.
“Hot!” she yells again, bounding the rest of the way to him.
Will meets this wild greeting with a graceful bow, taking Kasey’s fingers to brush a kiss onto her hand.
“Miss Lavoe,” he says solemnly, straightening up. “Your kind words are appreciated, though surely highly exaggerated.”
“Nope.” She beams up at him, eating him up with her eyes. “I’d say I’m underselling it, if anything.”
“She wishes me to lose all my dignity,” Will tells me, with raw strain in his voice.
“Oh, it’s all good. My dignity never survives a hang-out with Kasey.”
“Brothers in the struggle,” Will says grimly, then smiles when I laugh. “Speaking of such things, you may want to peek into the workshop, Jamie.”
I flash him a curious, inquiring glance, but he’s already caught Kasey’s hand and disappeared with her.
I turn to face Raj and Ripley’s workshop. Just in time to hear a muffled crashing sound from within, followed by a muffled shout from Noah.
I push the door open, peer into the workshop, and go wide-eyed with bewildered alarm.
“Hey, Jamie!” Raj calls, with his usual warm cheerfulness. “Come on in, brother!”
He’s standing at one of the work tables, using his handheld wood router on the edges of the skateboard deck he’s making. Fluffy little mountains of wood shavings lay in heaps at his feet, slowly and steadily growing as he works. His dark curls are falling towards his eyes, which are focused wholly on what he’s doing.
Eddie is tumbling around in the wood shavings, catching pawfuls of them and then diving for others, his inky little tail twitching with excitement. He’s starting to look less like a round ball of black fur and more like an actual kitten, but he’s still so tiny, a miniature shadow flashing around.
Tristan is seated at one of the work tables behind Raj, carefully painting one of the decks. Noelle, standing across from Tristan, also absorbed in a painting. There’s a laptop and workbag beside her, which makes me think she came over to work on her proposal, but she’s leaning over one of the boards instead, carefully applying tiny dabs of white paint.
This would all come together to be a very peaceful picture, if not for what’s happening at the other side of the workshop.
“What-?” I gasp, one hand flying up to my mouth. “You guys!”
Aiden is leaning his shoulder against the wall, his blue eyes watching Ralph and Ripley. They’re standing on a big gym mat that’s been placed on the floor – well, Ralph is standing. Ripley is technically on his feet, but he’s doubled over, because Ralph has him in some sort of frontal headlock. The back of Ripley’s head is pressed against Ralph’s lower stomach, held there by Ralph’s arms hooked around his throat. Keeping him in place with crushing force. Ripley is struggling to free himself, unsuccessfully trying to wrench Ralph’s arms away.
He and Ralph both glance over at me, briefly distracted by my arrival. Noah, who was walking in a slow circle around them, snaps his fingers to get Ripley’s attention. He nods meaningfully at Ralph, like – now’s your chance.
Ralph hears it too, though. He tightens his uncompromising stranglehold before Ripley can do anything. Ripley lets out a sharp hiss, trying to work his fingers beneath Ralph’s arms.
I set aside the muffins I brought, then rush over, wide-eyed with alarm. “Let him go, Ralph!”
“Why? We’re sparring.” Ralph sharply flexes his arm as Ripley nearly twists himself free. “He’s the one who let me get him into this position. He’s gotta learn.”
“Oh… okay…” I hesitate anxiously, then give up and let out a helpless laugh, bending to peer into Ripley’s upside-down face. “Graduated from Noah to Ralph, huh? I’d have thought the order would be the other way around. No offense, Ralph! It’s just that brawling is more Noah’s thing. I’m more afraid of you because of your marksmanship.”
“Noah’s – better, but Ralph – is – harder,” Ripley pants, slapping at Ralph’s arms, “Because – he’s – a dick about it.”
“He’s gotta learn to fight dirty,” Ralph informs me, as I head over to get a hello kiss from Aiden. “Not everyone likes a nice clean fight like Noah does.”
Ripley tries to bring his knee up into Ralph’s legs, and Ralph just backs up, keeping Ripley firmly where he is. They both pause for a second to look up, hearing the workshop door open again.
Gage leans inside, then stops in flattered surprise when his arrival gets an enthusiastic cheer of greeting from all of us. Noelle glances up from her board, laughing softly at the deeply moved expression on Gage’s face.
“Wow.” Gage glances over his shoulder to make sure that was all directed at him, then puts a hand to his chest. “You Ketterbridge people sure know how to make a guy feel welcome.”
“We didn’t know you were coming over!” I call brightly, as he comes in and shuts the door after himself.
“Ripley and Raj invited me to come check it out.” Gage darts a warm look at Noelle. “Hey, Bug. Hoped you might be here. Doing some work?”
“Mhm.” Noelle gestures around with her paintbrush, returning his smile. “Not a bad spot for it, right?”
Gage lets his appreciative gaze wander over the workshop. It’s mostly finished, at least in terms of cleaning and repairs. The final touches are still underway. Ripley is only just getting started on the huge, spray-painted piece of artwork he’s putting up on the wall behind the counter. About half of the display racks that the boards will eventually go on have been put up. But the space is gleamingly clean, and starting to show signs of being used and lived in.
Splashes of paint dot the work tables, and the floors around them. Raj’s larger woodworking tools have been set up on the second floor. Ripley and Tristan’s art supplies have been moved in on the first. I see now why Raj wanted to restore the glass-front linen cabinet he found. It’s become a beautiful piece of storage for stacks of paint palettes, cans of spray paint, mixing trays, thick sheaves of art paper, jars of brushes.
The whole building looks so much more full now that there’s furniture. Chairs, work tables, one or two surfboards and paintings up on the walls.
With the shafts of sunlight spilling in through the polished windows, the smell of paint, coffee, autumn breeze, and wood shavings in the air, the quiet music drifting through the speakers… it really is a nice place to work. So long as the artist in question doesn’t mind working right next to Ralph and Ripley as they try to kill each other. Noelle, Tristan, and Raj all seem to be wholly unbothered by that. If anything it seems like they appreciate the background noise.
“This is awesome,” Gage decides.
“Ne le disais-je pas?” Noah calls, to a grin and a nod from Gage.
“Can’t wait to see some of the boards, too, those sounded-”
Gage stops mid-sentence, noticing for the first time what Ralph and Ripley are doing. His eyebrows arch up high.
“Alright, and what do we have going on over here?” He grabs a chair and drags it over, accepting the cold beer that Aiden offers him from the mini-fridge. “I’m into it, whatever it is.”
“Are you sure he’s okay?” I ask anxiously. “Ralph’s been choking him for a long time. Can you breathe, dude?”
“Sports – bra,” Ripley gasps. “No – binder. All – good.”
“Oh, are you trans, Ripley?” asks Gage.
Ripley, gasping for breath, steadily growing redder in the face, stops tugging at Ralph’s arms just long enough to give Gage a thumbs-up. He lets out a choking laugh when Gage holds up his beer like that news deserves a toast. Then he tries to wrench himself free again, hoping to catch Ralph off-guard.
He must have, but only a little. He and Ralph both let out a sharp, gasping breath and stagger back a step, but Ralph manages to keep him where he is.
“This is weirdly sexy,” Gage observes. “Should I be filming?”
Noah leans down to talk to Ripley, but doesn’t come any closer to the mat. “Tearing his arms away isn’t working, man. Stop and think, measure him.”
Ripley stops struggling, holds still for a second, then lets go of Ralph’s arms and seizes him by the back of his knee instead. He wrenches it forward, throwing Ralph off-balance. He has to let go of Ripley to catch himself as he falls. Ripley staggers back and flings his curls out of his blazing green eyes as he straightens up, suddenly free. For a split second he stands over Ralph, who’s sprawled out on the mat, and it looks like he’s about to dive on top of him.
“No, Ripples!” Noah shouts. “Don’t get too excited! You’re better on your feet, he’s better on the ground, stay up, let him get up!”
Ripley catches himself just in time. Ralph leaps to his feet.
“Get those hands up!” Noah shouts, and Ripley does just before Ralph can land a punch on his face. It glances off of his padded glove instead. “Keep it moving, don’t give him a stationary target!”
“Chin down,” Aiden adds, as Ripley begins bouncing around on his feet, keeping his hands up by his face. “Keep it down, don’t put it out where he can reach it!”
Ripley tucks his chin and draws his head back as Ralph takes a jab at him, then seizes the opening and throws one back. Ralph takes a step back to avoid it, then one more step back to avoid another, then flings up his padded hands to knock a third aside. On the retreat, all of a sudden. Noelle, Tristan, and Raj all stop what they’re doing to watch.
“Yes, Ripley!” Noah shouts excitedly. “I see an uppercut, get it, take it!”
Ripley stares at the gap left between Ralph’s arms. His hands are still held up from blocking the last punch, leaving his chin exposed, and some of his jaw.
But there was no time for Ripley to stop. Ralph seizes the opportunity left by that split second to recover and dive forward, tackling him flat to the floor. He lands on top of Ripley, and they both grunt sharply, struggling with each other, breathing hard.
“Oh, yeah, I should’ve been filming,” Gage says regretfully, as Ralph straddles Ripley and firmly pins him to the mat. “Fuck.”
“No!” Ripley groans, laughing and panting. He gives up any semblance of real technique, trying to slap Ralph off of him instead. “Come on, I was right there!”
Aiden leans back against the wall, shaking his head affectionately at Ripley. “You always hesitate right at the last second, dude.”
“I get why he does, though. He doesn’t want to land a hit unless he means it.” Noah smiles down at Ripley, clearly pleased with how he did in the fight even if he didn’t win. “Man’s a powerful striker.”
“Duh, Noosh, he’s been going to the gym with me.”
Gage sits forward in his chair, his green-brown eyes full of curiosity. “Are you training for something, Ripley?”
“For the first unfortunate fucker who comes at me,” Ripley pants, then accepts a beamingly proud fist bump from Noah for that answer.
Tristan looks up from the board he’s working on, frowning indignantly. “Someone already did, dude. Me. I tried to punch you in the face.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ripley lets out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his sweaty curls. “I forgot about that.”
“Wow, really? Okay.” Tristan glares at Ripley, then glares at the skateboard, then lets out a sudden roar of frustration. He hurls his paintbrush at the wall, where it makes a wet smacking sound and leaves a dab of green paint behind. “Ripley! Will you please come fucking look at this? I keep fucking up this one little part, at this rate I’m gonna ruin the whole goddamn board-”
“Dude,” Ripley pants, still trying to tear his wrist free from Ralph. “Go get the chalkboard and practice that part until it looks how you want it! Then come back and try again, instead of just mauling the deck!”
Tristan pauses, considering, then shrugs his shoulders. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”
He slips off of his stool to get the chalkboard. Noelle watches him go with laughing eyes, then turns to look at the rest of us again.
“Why do you have that, Gage?” she asks, pointing to what he brought in with him.
Aiden huffs out a baffled laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Oh, this?” Gage holds up the big kite, trying to untangle some of the string. “I saw it stuck in a tree when I was walking here from the bus stop. Figured a long man like me ought to take down any kite stuck somewhere high up like that, right? It’s our duty.”
Noah is immediately interested. “Should we see if it’ll fly?”
“Nah, I can see that leading to potential disaster,” Gage says, absent-mindedly knotting the string around the neck of his beer bottle. “I’ll just anchor it right here. Should probably play it safe, so we don’t mess up Raj and Ripley’s sick workshop.”
“It’s pretty – cool, right?” Ripley manages, now trying to kick Ralph off of him. “Raj is turning out beautiful boards for us to work on.”
Gage sets his beer aside and gets up to wander over to Raj, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Man, I can’t figure out if it’s more impressive to watch you make little toy animals with just a hunk of wood and a knife, or complicated stuff using power tools I’d be too terrified to even pick up.”
Raj lets out a warm laugh, pulling down his dust mask. “We’re gonna offer some woodworking classes here, so I’m hoping to banish those kinds of fears.”
“This is truly a place of learning,” Gage says meditatively. “About art, and power tools, and erotic strangulation.”
Noelle hastily draws her paintbrush back from the board as she begins shaking with silent laughter.
Without noticing, Gage goes on - “Speaking of which, I just came from work. Is there a shower here I could use, by any chance? I’ve got some lipstick on my thigh, among other things.”
“Gage!” Noelle hangs her head to hide her blushing, laughing face. “Honestly!”
“Upstairs,” Ripley pants, pointing with his free hand.
Gage gives him an appreciative bow, then picks up his backpack and heads up the stairs. Ralph looks up at Noah, ignoring Ripley’s attempts to knee him.
“We should really take this outside one of these days. Hard to think of ways to make it unfair when we’re just on a mat.”
“I can think of a way!” Noah says cheerfully, then hurls himself into the fight.
All three of them go flying on the mat, shouting and trying to kick each other.
“I really like working here,” Noelle laughs, watching the extremely stupid-looking battle. “Why is this so relaxing to me?”
“Because you grew up with Noah?” I suggest.
“True,” Noelle giggles, then gasps as a huge gust of wind rushes in through the windows, lifting the kite off of Gage’s chair.
It sweeps gracefully into the air, then jolts to a stop, weighed down by the beer bottle. There’s a brief pause.
Then the kite surges back into movement, dragging the beer bottle along the floor. It bounces wildly, leaving bubbling splashes in its wake. Eddie comes bursting out of the wood shavings pile to chase it down, his little kitten self trembling with excitement. Suddenly the two of them are engaged in a mad dash all over the workshop.
“Oh, shit!” Noelle springs to her feet, her paintbrush tumbling down onto the work table, adding a new splash of color to the wood. “Aw, no, this is my fault, I’m the one who said it would be a good idea to leave the windows open and paint with the breeze!”
“Technically this is Gage’s fault,” Ripley points out, grinning broadly. “And he’s not even here to see what he caused.”
Noelle stares in disbelief at the bizarre cat and beer-mouse situation happening, pressing her fingertips to her lips. “Noah, stop fighting and come help me catch the bottle, or Eddie!”
“One sec!” Noah shouts back. He’s struggling to hold off Ripley, who just managed to get on top of him. “Shouldn’t have loaned Ripples my sick MMA gloves, he’s more confident with ‘em!”
Noelle lets out a helpless burst of laughter, gesturing to the beer bouncing wildly around the workshop. “How does this not count as an emergency?”
“Jamie, help me catch the beer!” Raj rushes towards it, beckoning for me and Aiden. “Aiden, you try to catch the kite!”
“Wow, really?” Aiden protests, spreading his hands at Raj indignantly. “How tall do you guys think I actually am?”
“Do I need to assist with this?” Tristan asks, without taking his eyes off of the chalkboard. “Because I’m finally getting this to look how I want it to, so… I don’t really want to help.”
“Thank you so much, dude!” Ripley shouts. “Some contributor to the workshop you are!”
“You’re not helping, either,” Tristan points out.
“I’m in a fight for my life! You could also help me with that, you realize?”
“Sure,” Tristan agrees absently, bending over the chalkboard again as the kite goes soaring past him.
“Wait, I’ve got it!” I call out, rushing alongside Raj after the escaped beer. “I have experience catching hopping things, ‘cause of the saucepan!”
“What saucepan?” Noelle giggles.
“It’s – a long story-”
The wind suddenly shifts, or else the kite fell into a different current, because the beer abruptly changes course and starts coming right for me and Raj. We both freeze uncertainly, take a few steps back, then fall into full retreat.
“Bruh, what the fuck?” Raj shouts in alarm. “Somehow it’s chasing us, now!”
“Aiden, help us!” I yell.
“No way.” He leans his shoulder against the wall and breaks into a wide grin, folding his arms over his chest. “Why the hell would I put a stop to this?”
“Oh, my god, okay-” Noelle leaps onto the work table, poising herself to spring for the kite. “I’ve got it, everyone just-”
The door of the workshop opens. We all freeze where we are as Logan steps inside.
He stops to stare into the workshop, changing the direction of the wind by leaving the door open. The kite spins towards the door, and the beer bottle smacks into the doorframe. Knocked free from the string, it tumbles to the floor at Logan’s feet. He ducks down instinctively, barely missing the kite as it makes its hasty escape over his head.
Eddie goes leaping after the string. Aiden catches him, snatching him out of the air like a football before he can run outside after the kite or tumble into a pool of spilled beer.
Logan straightens up in bewilderment, staring at the sight of everything happening in the workshop. Ralph, Noah, and Ripley, still tangled up together on the mat, frozen mid-brawl. Me and Raj clinging to each other, Noelle standing up on the work table beside us. Tristan sketching very fast with his chalk, too absorbed to have noticed anything going on. Aiden hugging a squirming, mewing Eddie to his chest.
Logan just stares at us.
Before anyone can say a word, a brief, enormous rush of water suddenly spills down from the ceiling and hits the floor with a loud slap. The waterfall narrowly misses Tristan, who doesn’t bother to look up from his work.
“Ripley,” he says distractedly. “Someone’s shouting for you, or something.”
We all look up as Gage pokes his head over the second-floor banister, his drenched hair sticking up like it was blasted by a fire hydrant.
“Hey, Ripley,” he says, “There seems to be a slight problem with your bathroom up here. I believe a spite demon may have taken up residence in your showerhead.”
He says it with a contemplative calm that pairs so ridiculously with his water-blasted appearance that Noelle – who was staring in mystified silence at the place where water poured out of the ceiling – presses her hands over her mouth, trembling with silent laughter.
“We call it a hurricane shower,” Ripley calls up.
“Feels weirdly kind of good,” Gage calls back. “Ralph, come up here and try this.”
“What-? Hell no, man, I’m not taking a shower with you!” Ralph answers, so completely taken aback that Noelle loses the battle against herself and dissolves into laughter.
Logan holds still for another second. He looks at Noelle’s bright expression, then lets out a forced laugh of his own.
“There’s a lot going on here, isn’t there?” he says, working a smile onto his face. “Having fun, Noelle? I’m glad.”
“Yes,” she says breathlessly, then blushes and quickly hops down from the table. “I was working on my proposal, but I got a little off-track.”
Logan glances up at the ceiling. “I hope that water didn’t land on your laptop.”
“We placed the work tables strategically, so it won’t land on anybody’s work.” Ripley points a paint-stained finger at the square of bright tape on the floor. “See? The splash zone is marked off.”
Logan’s lip twitches.
“I like the shower the way it is,” Gage says contemplatively. “Gets the lipstick right off.”
That makes all of us laugh, except for Logan. His eyes flash with a dark, reproving scowl aimed at Gage.
If Gage noticed, he doesn’t show it. He turns and heads back towards the shower, clearly with the intention of getting back in. Noelle, who touched down from the table directly in the splash zone, scampers with a breathless “Oh, shit!” - and dives out of the way just in time. The water comes spilling down again right as she falls back against Logan, panting with laughter.
“I should really put a potted plant in the splash zone,” I laugh helplessly, as the water drizzles to a stop. “Something that can absorb a lot of water. Maybe a fern.”
Logan catches Noelle, then sets her back on her feet. He’s still smiling, but something in the air has changed now that he’s here. There’s an unspoken, almost paternal disapproval behind the smile, and none of us can help feeling it.
Ralph, Ripley, and Noah let each other go so they can get to their feet. Ripley pulls off the gloves he’d been wearing, looks longingly at them, then reluctantly gives them back to Noah. Aiden picks up a towel and tosses it over the puddles of spilled beer, depositing Eddie back on the floor. Raj and I let each other go.
It’s gotten quiet in the workshop. Everyone is suddenly uncertain of what to say. Noelle’s laughter has fallen quiet, too. She grows serious, worriedly biting her lip. Feeling the change in atmosphere.
“Isn’t it hard to get any progress made on your art with all – this going on?” Logan asks Noelle, with a gesture at the whole room.
Tristan looks up from the chalkboard, grinning widely.
“I got it.” He springs up excitedly, rushing back over to the deck he’d been painting. “Fucking finally!”
He snatches his paintbrush back up, ignoring the spatter of metallic green it left on the wall and floor, then gets right back to work on the board.
“Well, since we’re hanging out I brought some pastries from that place you all like,” Logan says, with an attempt at cheerfulness. “I’ll go get them from the car.”
He slips back out through the front door. There’s a short silence in the workshop, broken by a gasp from the stairs. We all turn to find Gage standing on the landing halfway down, wearing fresh clothes, his dark hair all damp. He’s stopped to stare in rapt delight at Eddie, who just paused at the bottom of the steps to stare up at him.
“Little guy,” Gage stammers, cautiously descending the stairs towards Eddie. “Has he been here this whole time?”
“He was in the wood shavings pile,” Ripley explains.
“Was he?” Gage asks waveringly, in a tone that suggests this information has put him on the brink of tears. “Can I pick him up, Ripley?”
“Sure, but he might put some holes in your clothes with his claws. He holds on tight. Gets excited whenever anyone picks him up, since it’s all new stuff for him to see. He’s a baby, so it’s still a brand new world.”
That becomes very obvious when Gage gently picks Eddie up. He tenses in Gage’s arms, his tiny head turning in all directions, his pupils making his wide eyes into two huge black pools.
“Oh, god!” Noelle lets out an anguished groan, pressing the side of her fist to her chest. She scrambles to snatch her phone up from the work table. “I have to get a picture of this, I’m sorry. This is too cute, I’m gonna have to draw it later.”
She snaps the picture, lowers her phone to take a look at it, and stops still, smiling to herself.
“Is it good?” Gage asks hopefully.
Noelle looks up slowly, her eyes swimming with warm affection. “Yeah, it – it’s great. You’re both adorable.”
She drops her gaze back to her phone, missing the beaming smile that flashes across Gage’s face. He gets control of it hastily, dropping his head over Eddie.
“Worth it,” he decides out loud, as Eddie sinks his claws into the soft, threadbare white cotton of his shirt. “Whatever. If it tears then people will be able to see a little more of my tattoo. Should’ve done your way, Noah, and gotten a lot of tattoos instead of just one. Usually the only ones who ever see my entire tattoo are the people I work with, or people who watch my videos.”
“The one you have is so sick, though,” I tell him, then blush deeply, realizing what I just admitted.
The tattoo is a bright porcelain blue in color, outlined in thick black linework. It reads as wind, in an abstract way, and it runs in a single, long, unbroken line around his body. Beginning on the inside of his bicep, winding once around it, then sweeping down his side in a gentle curve that leads to his lower stomach. It keeps going down from there until it loops around his upper thigh, then climbs up his back to wrap around his other bicep… it’s a winding path. Gracefully twisting its way around him like a caught ribbon.
You can’t see it all in a still photo, which so far as Gage knows is all I’ve seen of his work. You’d have to have watched a video.
“Oh, thank you,” Gage says brightly, not making the same realization at all. He holds out his arm, where Eddie just put a new kitten claw hole in his sleeve. “Now you can see a tiny bit more of it, thanks to…?”
He looks questioningly at Ripley, who answers – “Eddie.”
“Eddie.” Gage grimaces with his whole face. “Shit. That’s pretty cute. Hurts a little.”
Ripley pauses in concern. “The claws?”
“No, the cute.” Gage looks down at Eddie, who’s still marveling at all the new sights available to him from this vantage point. “It’s too much goodness to take.”
“Speaking of things that fall into that category.” Aiden nods across the workshop floor, at the table where I left my jacket and the muffins. “Did you bring homemade muffins with you, Jamie?”
“Yeah, I found a very late patch of wild blueberries right outside of the garden, so I baked some. But Logan said he brought pastries from Mugshot, so it’s okay, we can save mine for later.”
Noah shoots Raj an incredulous look. “The way he says that like we won’t eat all the pastries available. We were just sparring, Keane. I’ll eat fifty muffins, I don’t give a damn.”
“Yeah, we’re not gonna pass on those,” Aiden says firmly, striding over to get them. “They’re still hot, I can tell from here. And they’re so good. Wait ‘til you try these, Gage and Noelle.”
“Oh, I’m excited.”
“You should be,” Ripley tells Noelle. “I’ve had them. They’re about on par with the sobbing orgasm nachos.”
“Huh,” Gage murmurs thoughtfully, placing Eddie back on the floor. “I’m surprised that I’m the only one here who doesn’t know what orgasm nachos are. Feels like it should be the opposite, like I’m the only one who knows and none of you do.”
“I don’t know what that is, either,” Noelle laughs, bewildered and alarmed. “Someone explain. Concisely. Fast.”
“Meaning they’re good enough to make a person moan.” Raj eagerly comes over to the plate of muffins, taking off his own work gloves and stuffing them in the pocket of his jeans. “Noah or Gabby usually does the moaning, for dramatic effect. They’re really good at it.”
“I’m sure I’d sound like an amateur to his ears.” Noah grins at Gage, helping himself to one of the muffins. “You’re the pro, Gage. Bet you could put us all to shame.”
“Yeah, do it, Gage!” Ripley turns his green eyes on him, also grinning broadly. “Do it for the muffins.”
“Oh, sure,” Gage answers breezily.
Then he lets out such a convincing, filthy moan of ecstasy that Noah drops the muffin he was holding.
“Mmm… là… oui, là... oui… Je n'en puis plus,” Gage moans breathlessly, then pauses, realizing something. “Oh, wait. I still keep forgetting that I’m not filming in France at the moment. English, right?”
We all stare at him in disbelief for a split second, then simultaneously burst into stunned laughter.
“Gage!” Noelle sputters, her eyes perfectly round, her cheeks perfectly crimson. She slaps his arm, having completely crushed her muffin in her other hand. “What – oh my god!”
“Your friends requested it,” he says with a shrug, taking a bite of his own muffin. “I was trying to be polite. Oh, damn, Jamie, this is really good. I should have saved the moans for after. A person never really runs out of moans, though. Moans are for life.”
“You look and sound like some promising young philosophy professor at a prestigious school,” Raj laughs helplessly, staring at Gage with wide eyes. “But then you say shit like that.”
“It was philosophy of a type,” Aiden manages with difficulty, his deep voice wavering.
“Jesus, Gage!” My cheeks are still glowing with enough heat to turn my freckles to smoke. “When Noah and Gabby do it, it’s funny, but when you do it – that was – you sounded like you were genuinely getting your world rocked!”
“When in reality I tend to get pretty quiet when I’m getting my world rocked,” he reflects, curling a knuckle beneath his chin. “How’s that for some philosophy?”
“It’s – not?” Ralph stares at Gage in amazement as Raj slumps weakly against his shoulder, trembling with laughter. “Just not at all.”
Noelle looks down at her destroyed muffin, then lifts her indignant gaze to Gage. She stabs a finger into his face and begins laying down a stern scolding on him in French.
He very tamely submits to it, looking so meek and apologetic that Noelle stops after only a few sentences. She bites her lip, then dissolves into helpless laughter.
“Oh, you drive me crazy,” she complains, swatting Gage’s arm, giggling through every word. “You – that was – god! I guess it’s not enough that your beer went for a joyride around the workshop while you were gone!”
Gage – who started smiling brightly again as soon as Noelle started laughing – lifts his eyebrows in surprise.
“Did it? Hm.” He thinks about it for a second, giving off the impression that he’s contemplating this information on a depth and level of thought that we couldn’t begin to comprehend, then comes back with: “I’m trying to think if I know what that means. Did all of you take a sip of it, or something? Hand it around, let everyone have a taste?”
“No.” Noelle trembles with silent laughter, rubbing her temples. “But way to make a thing about a beer bottle sound very sexual. That’s impressive, almost, in some weird way.”
“Oh,” Gage laughs, “You do not have to try hard to do that. A beer bottle?”
“Okay,” Aiden cuts in firmly, as Noelle widens her eyes at Gage. “Are we having the muffins or not? If we are, then everybody stop saying things so ridiculous that they’re pretty much choking hazards. Roger would tell us all off for this.”
“I should tell us all off for this,” Noelle groans, not quite managing to contain the laughter in her voice. “What sort of big sister am I, if-?”
She breaks off as the door opens again, and Logan steps inside with the box of pastries from Mugshot. At his arrival there’s an instant, brief pause to the laughter and activity that Gage had started back up when he came downstairs.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep the friendliest possible expression on my face. I’ve thought about it, and come to the conclusion that I want to make a heartfelt attempt to be warmer to Logan.
It’s not fair to the guy that I distrust him so badly, when I know almost nothing about him, and I’ve barely even talked to him. Besides, if he senses underlying mistrust from us, having done nothing specific to warrant it – I wouldn’t blame him for responding in kind. Maybe that’s what’s keeping us from connecting.
I place a lot of trust in my instincts, but it’s not like they’re foolproof. They’d also be much better informed if I actually got a chance to talk to the guy.
It’s not great that it got so quiet in here when he walked in. None of us intended that, but it’s a bad start. Then again… it doesn’t seem like Logan noticed at all. He only looks up from his phone when he’s halfway across the workshop to us.
I give him a warm, friendly smile, waving him over. “Thanks for bringing those, man! That’s really nice of you. Here, come put them with the muffins I brought. We’ve got an accidental breakfast buffet going.”
Logan sets the pastry box down on the work table with a nod.
“Yes, I’m sure everyone’s hungry, after all that – running around.” He looks at Ripley and Raj, smiling stiffly. “I’m sure there will be fewer beer bottles smashing against the walls once the business is open to customers, right?”
Ripley lets out a laugh, stretching out his tired arms. “If anything I think that number will go up significantly once we’re open.”
“We’re trying to attract surfers and skate rats,” Raj explains, giving Logan a grin. “So if there’s no smashed beer bottles at all, probably means we haven’t had many customers.”
Logan frowns at that piece of news.
“Just be careful which kinds of customers you attract,” he warns them, for the first time sounding interested now that the conversation is about business. He leans forward, tapping his phone for emphasis. “Just a few bad ones can screw you over, if they find any reason to complain. A buddy of mine had his whole start-up crash and burn for basically no reason.”
“Aw, that sucks.” Raj fidgets with the dust mask around his neck, deeply troubled by the thought. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, it was bullshit,” Logan sighs, visibly frustrated. “Not even that many people got a rash from the workout supplements.”
“No, I’m sure,” I agree uncertainly.
“It was like, less than sixty people,” Logan adds, making my eyes open very wide.
I steal a quick glance at Aiden. From his alarmed expression I can tell I’m not the only one thinking that sixty people sounds like quite a lot of people to give a rash to, actually.
“Oh,” is all I can manage in answer to that.
“I know, right? That whole big deal over such a little thing. And it was nothing permanent. Those people are fine now.” Logan pulls down an email notification on his phone to give it a quick read. “The point is, a few bad customers can kill a young business, so make sure you attract the right people. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to aim for surfers and skate rats, you know what I mean? Rebellious types make for rebellious customers, and I don’t think you want that.”
This is met with a deep frown from Ripley. One from Raj, too, an expression I’m so unused to seeing on his sunny face that I find it a little startling.
Then again, I’m not surprised. Part of the reason they wanted to open this business is because Raj is a surfer and Ripley is a skate rat. Something Logan is evidently unaware of. Even now, because he’s gotten wrapped up in the email he was skimming.
“Another one of these,” he sighs, rolling his eyes at us. “Sorry, work. I just need a minute to call back someone from the bank. Is there someplace…?”
Ripley silently gives his hand a flick in the direction of the door that leads out into the back garden. Logan lets himself out, already pulling up someone’s contact.
“Talk more when I get back,” he promises.
Silence briefly falls again once he disappears. Noelle stands there, uneasily nibbling her lip, then looks at Ripley and tries to smile again.
“Sounds like we’re taking a pastry break, but I’ll finish the skateboard, I promise.”
“Take your time.” Ripley’s irritated expression falls away as he turns back to Noelle, replaced with an appreciative smile. “I’m just so stoked that you’re doing one. Your style is really cool.”
I glance over at the table Noelle was working at. Suddenly curious, I slip away from the group and wander over to have a look at the deck she’s painting. Giving Tristan a wide berth, in case any more paintbrushes are unexpectedly thrown.
Noelle’s artwork is still in progress, but it looks like she already got pretty far along. Being careful not to touch it by accident, I lean over the unfinished skateboard, then blink in surprise.
Without realizing it, I’d made assumptions about what Noelle’s art style would look like. She’s so delicate-looking that I began to picture very delicate-looking art.
Her board does have some delicate colors – a peachy pink and pale daffodil sky. The sunset hues of a desert scene, where an indigo dusk is slowly beginning to fall.
An oasis is tucked into the slopes of sand, a cool blue pond reflecting the falling twilight, palm trees swaying in the breeze. There’s a glowing campfire set up in the shade, and reclining beside it is a skeleton in dusty bandit clothes. His bone arms are languidly folded behind his head, which is tilted back. Smoke from the joint tucked into his teeth is escaping through a bullet hole in his forehead.
He looks very relaxed, one skeletal foot half in the water of the pool, his hat tilted at a jaunty angle. His empty eyes are peacefully gazing up at the crescent moon hanging in the sunset sky.
Yeah, delicate certainly isn’t the word for this style. Most of it has a hard, thick black outline, even the clouds of smoke. Makes it feel like something from a badass, lovingly-illustrated comic book.
I look up at Noelle, surprised that this came from her.
Then I look at Gage, thinking about the thick black outline on his tattoo. I thought the artwork had a cool, unique style, one I hadn’t seen anywhere else. Now I’ve seen it somewhere else, though. In fact, I’m pretty sure I know exactly which artist inspired it.
The smoke clouds from the skeleton call to mind the stylized wind running all over Gage’s body. Even the bright porcelain blue color of his ink is straight from Noelle’s palette, filling up the pool of the oasis.
Does Noelle know, I wonder? Possibly not. So long as Gage keeps his clothes on it isn’t visible, and from Noelle’s shocked reaction to Gage’s muffin moans she’s never watched any of his videos. I did think I saw her looking at him curiously when we were talking about his tattoo earlier.
Yeah… I get the feeling she doesn’t even know, which means it wasn’t intended as a compliment. He must just really like her style.
I get it. It’s really sick. It’s not even done yet, and I can already tell it’ll fit right in with the boards Ripley and Tristan painted.
I lift my admiring eyes from the deck, then blink in surprise. Gage is standing right across from me on the other side of the work table. Like me, he’s very carefully leaning over the board, taking in Noelle’s unfinished work. His green-brown eyes are glowing with deep, reverential appreciation.
He looks up, meets my gaze, and says: “Dude. Craziest thing. I looked out through that front window, and I see another kite caught in a tree. It looks just like the first one, too. You think this means something?”
“What-?” I let out a burst of startled laughter, shaking my head at him. “No, man, it’s the same one. It escaped while you were in the shower.”
“Well, I still think two kites in one day might mean something,” Gage says meditatively. “Even if it’s the same one.”
“I – yeah, maybe,” I answer doubtfully, around a helpless laugh.
“Suppose either way I should rescue it again.” He straightens up from the table, tossing his dark brown hair out of his eyes. “Feel like I’m responsible for it now. Might even mean I’m its dad, technically.”
“If that’s the case then you’re responsible for it spilling beer everywhere.”
Gage turns and walks backwards so he can spread his arms at me in protest. “Quoi? I wasn’t even here!”
“You don’t even have to be,” I laugh, full of growing fondness for him. “It just happens, you just leave chaos in your wake!”
Gage flashes me a puzzled grin, then lets himself out of the workshop.
I glance across the workshop at the others. Thinking reluctantly to myself that if Logan is back, I should probably go talk to him. Make that effort I told myself I would.
A much brighter prospect for an enjoyable conversation approaches me before I can head back over.
“Hey, Noelle,” I say brightly, with inward relief. “Love how your deck is coming out!”
“Thank you! It’ll get there. I’ve still got a lot of stars to do.”
She stops across the work table from me, picks up a brush, and begins swirling it in a jar of water, leaving soft clouds of bright blue pigment dancing around it.
I was about to go get a muffin, but some instinct keeps me lingering by the work table, looking at her curiously. Waiting.
I don’t know why, exactly. But for some reason I’m only wondering, not surprised when she looks up and quietly asks -
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
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