Page 35 of Torch Songs

“I’ve got my own jackets,” Guthrie grumbled, but he did what Tad said. Tad’s chest was broader—he did like to work out—and the lightweight jacket was an XL, while Guthrie, under his shirt, was probably an L, but a slender one.

“Here,” Tad said, doing a couple of buttons. He paused, their proximity achingly close when he was planning to leave for two weeks. “Just… you know. Think of me. Like this.” Then he kissed him, the taste of coffee mingling, the taste of Guthrie lingering. Gah! He didn’t want to go.

“So, if I keep this, you promise to come back for it?” Guthrie asked, when they came up for air.

“I really love this… shirt,” Tad murmured.

“So that’s a yes,” Guthrie said. “I like that. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

Tad closed his eyes and pulled up Guthrie’s hand, which sported a new, clean bandage. He kept his nails scrupulously trimmed, Tad noticed, which made his calluses even more apparent. These hands knew hard living.

He kissed Guthrie’s knuckles and then gazed into Guthrie’s eyes again. “You keepyousafe for me. The jacket needs someone to keep warm, okay?”

Guthrie’s “snakebit” smile appeared, the one that said hereallyliked what Tad was saying but wasn’t used to thinking of promises and hope like they were a thing.

“I’ll do my best,” he said.

Tad kissed him again, and this time it was Guthrie’s watch, beeping an alarm, that split them apart.

“Shit!” Guthrie cried, breaking away to grab a small lunch cooler sitting on the counter and his keys, which were in a bowl near the same place. “You got me all kiss-stupid! I gotta go!”

“One more!” Tad demanded, and Guthrie ran up to him and kissed him, hard and fast and dirty, before turning to launch himself out the door.

“Lock up and turn out the lights!” he begged as he cleared the threshold. “And text me!”

“I’ll text you!” Tad cried, and then the door thunked shut, leaving Tad alone in Guthrie’s pleasant little apartment.

Tad looked around, liking everything about the place except the fact that Guthrie was no longer in it.

Mournfully, he reflected that he would do anything—anything—to find a way for them to do this more often.

All the time.

Every goddamned day.

Help Me I Think I’m Falling

“YEAH,” GUTHRIEsaid into his earbuds as he stepped out of his truck toward work. The wind wasreallykicking it in today, which made him glad for Tad’s plaid hoodie, but even more warming was the conversation. “I’d be happy to have Kelly’s sister come stay with me for a bit.”

Kelly’s youngest sister, Agnes,reallyloved theater. She would be a junior in high school, but she’d gotten a part in a play in San Francisco: four nights a week, with rehearsals starting the next week.

“Lulu’s going to come with her,” Seth said, like Guthrie hadn’t heard that part. “I know your place is small, man. It’s just their mom will only let us help so much, and Kelly’s doing finances. We’re buying a house here in Connecticut and one in Sacramento for my dad and Kelly’s mom and the girls. It’s just alotright now, but you know.” His voice went soft. “It’s Agnes.”

Yeah, yeah. Guthrie knew aboutallof Kelly’s family. The twins, Lulu and Lily; Agnes, the baby; even Kelly’s late brother, who had cut a big damage path and left two special needs children in his wake.

Seth had been responsible for this family—or Seth and hisfatherhad taken responsibility for this family, Kelly and his mom included, when Seth was barely nineteen. That was how they’d met. Seth had needed money for Kelly’s family, so he’d walked his gay Black ass into a honky-tonk bar because Guthrie’s dad had put out an ad for a fiddler.

Guthrie had chafed for his friend then. Yeah, sure, he’d been in love with Seth, but God—hadn’t Seth wanted more for himself than a bunch of old man’s problems? It hadn’t been untilSeth had left for Italy that Guthrie had realized those old man’s problems were the promise of Seth’s life. That family he was helping to support was the best, most brilliant part of his friend’s heart.

Agnes, the baby, was a lot like her big brother. Squirrel-bright eyes, wicked sense of humor, round, cherubic face. And apparently she was talented on the stage in the same way Seth was talented with music, and because this was Seth and Kelly’s family, they were doing everything they could to give her the dream.

In this case, it was to sublet an apartmentoutsidethe city, but San Rafael was still kind of pricey. So Seth had called Guthrie, asking for a favor, and Guthrie had just lost his summer gig. Yeah, The Crabs would be playing at Scorpio for the next month and a half, but after that, the kids all had something bigger, more important, lined up. Money was going to be an issue, and Guthrie could sleep on the couch, drum up more gigs, and have a couple of roommates he really did love, and Lulu could take Agnes into the city four days a week and take an online summer course in physics, because Kelly’s sisters were that damned smart.

Guthrie would gladly give up his bed and sleep on his couch for two months—not only for the help with the rent, but because Kelly’s sisters were every bit as delightful as Kelly.

Besides. It was Seth.

“Yeah,” Guthrie said now, pausing before he went inside because he knew his boss would give him shit if he didn’t. “I know. It’s Agnes. But honestly, Seth, the timing’s great, and I got no problem with company.”

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