Cupidity - chapter 5

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Cupidity
Chapter 5
Previous chapters here.

***

He walked until he got to the big lake. He got a hotdog and fed most of it to the gang of ducks that crowded up to his feet. An old guy yelled at him for giving them bad food and duck cancer, or whatever, so he got a bag of proper feed instead from a little stall and sat and watched the joggers and the various hot people gliding about in lycra and rollerblades.

The carousel was busy. The place rang with the shrieks of small kids, and some big kids like himself. A mass of them charged past in bad pirate hats. He picked a black horse. That's because they're faster, his mom would say. Mom'd like it here, he thought. Except that she'd never think of leaving Salt Lake City to visit her son, who happened to be past saving. She'd said that herself. No, really, she'd hate it here.

"What's your horse called?" a small brown-haired girl said. She was sitting on the next horse across, staring at him. Her feet dangled, clad in gold Kickers.

"Umm. Robin." It was the first thing he could think of.

"What are you called?" she went on, still staring.

"Angel. What's your name?"

"Shania."

"Nice to meet you, Shania."

"Angel's a weird name for a boy," she said.

"That's not even my full name," Angel said, liking how her eyes got wide. "It gets weirder."

"Really? What is it?"

"Messiah Angel."

"Messiah Angel? Messiah Angel. That's nice. Messiah Angel." Her mother called her, and she jumped down, waving over her shoulder at him.

Huh. Nice. Well, that was a first. The credit card this morning had said M. Angel Comstock. He wondered if Robin thought it was nice. Doubtful. He wondered what his mom had been thinking when she picked that name, but he'd wondered that for years.

Had Robin just run a background check, credit check, whatever? Or had he actually sent someone back home? Maybe he'd gone himself. No, that was stupid. But Angel liked the mental picture it gave him, Robin in his dark suit, squinting against the desert sun, slurping coffee and getting those special you're-going-to-hell looks by the dozen. It made him smile.

He walked along the edge of the park, back towards Robin's place. He'd have to go back there, at least to get his stuff, and he wasn't really leaving, was he. He was just wandering around and moping. Pretty useless, really.

After last night, maybe he should leave. His wrists still kind of hurt. There were tiny bruises blooming around the nail marks. He didn't know Robin at all. Getting paid for sex was one thing. Getting paid to let someone knock him around was-- He didn't know what. Not okay.

Getting paid for sex. Robin was paying him, sort of. In a way. But not exactly.

Angel decided he needed ice cream before he got into that. He bought himself one of those sundae cones that came wrapped in paper and licked all the nuts off the top.

It wasn't sex for money. That would be so much simpler. And also prostitution. But simpler. It was more like Robin was paying for him to be available. Whenever. Because, fuck, Angel would've done him for free. Anytime. He was hot.

And it wasn't money. It wasn't like he had a salary. He didn't even know if he'd get to keep any of this stuff if he left. When he left. Because obviously this wouldn't last forever. He was afraid to ask, but maybe he should. At least he could get some stuff clear in his head then.

He walked faster.

When he got back, he headed for his room to shave. No point pissing Robin off first thing.

Robin was sitting on his bed, playing with his Pez dispenser.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Angel said. It just came out of him, and way too loud.

"Where were you today?"

"Why d'you even give a shit?" He paused, breathing hard to keep calm, but it didn't work. "Don't fucking touch that."

Robin pursed his lips. He closed his fist around the stupid bit of plastic that was the only thing Angel's brother had ever given him.

"I thought you'd left."

"Put it the fuck down. Put my fucking stuff down, or I'm gone. Right now."

He thought Robin wasn't going to do it. The seconds stretched out too long, and Angel didn't even know what he was hoping for. The Pez dispenser landed on the bedside table with a faint plasticky rattle.

"You're to be available and in contact at all times. I can have you followed, if you want it that way."

He sounded so horribly calm. Angel knew he must be serious.

"You can't just control all my life. It's like, fuck, it's like-- " It was kind of like how his mom and dad were. She did what he said. His word was law in the traditional fucked-up way. The idea made his stomach flip over. "I don't know what you want."

Robin sighed, then he stood and looked at his watch. "Have a shower. Get changed. We're going out."

"Fine." He took the Pez dispenser into the bathroom with him, like he thought Robin might break it or something. It sat on the back of the toilet and watched him shower. He felt like an idiot.

Out. Out to eat with more of Robin's friends? Maybe for an actual threesome this time? Angel didn't even know what he'd expected out of this arrangement, but this wasn't it. Maybe it was his own fault. He just wasn't taking advantage of it like he should. If Robin was going to treat him like a thing, he should act like-- No, that didn't work. And he didn't really want a fleet of Ferraris or any of the other ridiculous shit he could think of to blow Robin's money on. He didn't know what he wanted. Big shock there.

He dried off and threw some clothes on. He even shaved. His hair stuck to his back and soaked his shirt. He ignored it.

Robin was at the breakfast table, tapping the credit card against the wood. "You don't want this?" he asked.

Angel shrugged.

"You haven't bought much."

"Sorry." He sounded petulant. He couldn't help it.

"Come here." Angel walked over stiffly and let Robin take his hands and examine the tiny bruises and nail marks on his wrists. "I thought your first stop today would be Neiman Marcus, or perhaps the Mercedes dealership."

"What, like for revenge?"

"Or compensation." His thumb slid over the marks, pressing down lightly. "Where did you go instead?"

"The park."

Robin frowned. "To do what?"

"Feed the ducks. Ride the carousel. I got a hot dog."

Robin looked up at him, still frowning, so clearly confused that it was almost funny. "I see. And did you have fun?"

"Yeah. I guess. Sorta. I met a girl who liked my name. First time that ever happened."

"A girl."

"Don't get excited, she was about six years old."

There was a pause. Angel listened to the hum of the refrigerator and the soft, distant bloop of car horn as New York's cabbies expressed their opinion of the world. Robin's thumb slid over and around and between the nail marks like a skier on a slalom course.

"There must be something you want," Robin said, finally.

"Where are we going? If I see Eric right now I'm gonna punch him in the nose. Just so you know."

"No Eric, I promise." He hesitated. "I was going to take you out for lunch. But you've eaten."

"I fed most of it to the ducks."

"I didn't know ducks ate meat."

"I don't think hot dogs are really meat."

"All right," Robin said slowly. "Where would you like to go?"

He thought about it, quite hard. He could go anywhere.

"For pizza."

"Pizza."

"You said you'd take me out for lunch. It's food. It's what I want."

Robin paused, brows drawing together, but he nodded. The guy was probably more used to his toyboys demanding caviar or whatever.

"All right."

They rode down to the lobby in silence, watching each other. Marco was waiting, like he was always waiting. Robin said something to him and he nodded.

Robin didn't talk to Angel, and Angel didn't know what to say, or if he was expected to speak or just shut up and look pretty. Marco dropped them off on in the East Village. The streets were busy with the end of work rush.

"There's bound to be somewhere good here," Robin said, with an odd, confused little frown. "You pick."

"Me? Hey, if you want cheap and mostly edible I'm your guy."

"They're both sensible criteria," Robin said.

Angel didn't pick restaurants. He had no idea what he was looking for. He hadn't been to a real sit-down one since he'd left Utah. They walked along, avoiding the worst of the crowds. Robin kept close to his side. He seemed tense.

"This one looks nice," Angel said, finally, stopping. He had no idea if it was or not, but it looked clean, had checked curtains and wooden tables and normal looking people in it.

"So, you come here often?" Angel said, as they sat and waited for their drinks. Robin shook his head.

"No."

"You know that was a lame-ass joke, right?"

Robin blinked. "Oh, I see."

The wine hit Angel's empty stomach a little too hard and his face flushed. Robin sipped his drink and watched him, and Angel got a small shivery hot memory of kissing him last night. with Robin's heart thudding right up against his chest. What the fuck were they supposed to talk about now?

"You know a lot about me, right?" he said, finally.

"I know some things, yes."

"Like my real name and where I come from and the boring story of how I got here?"

"Ah. I lied about that part."

"Yeah, well. It is boring. Seventeen hours on a Greyhound bus. End of story. So, tell me some shit about you."

"Why should I?"

"Jesus. Because it's only fair."

Robin gave him a look. He was out of place here; that was clear to anyone, and maybe his stomach was empty too, because his cheeks had two spots of color on them and his eyes looked too bright. It made him look pretty, and it was hard to stop staring.

"What would you like to know?" he said.

"Who did those clothes belong to in my closet?"

Robin put his wine glass down and traced a fingertip up the stem. "No one."

"You buy them new for every boytoy?"

“You’re my first, so I don’t have an SOP.”

"Oh."

"What else would you like to know?"

"Are you secretly some creepy-ass government agent? How do you know what napalm smells like?"

"Keep your voice down," Robin said, softly. "They're listening to us right now."

"What, no way!"

Robin sipped his wine, then smiled, faintly. "That was a joke."

The pizza was awesome. Huge and hot and tasty. Angel had double pepperoni and olives, and Robin had something with goat cheese. Afterwards, standing out on the street waiting for Marco, Angel felt almost normal for the first time in forever.