Page 29 of Composed at Randy's
Harvey speak/yells over the cacophony. Did you know that was possible? Because up until now I didn't know somebody could manage to be loud and calm all at the same time. It's an impressive skill set.
Anyway, Harvey’s got that ability in spades because it’s very clear when he says, “I can assure you we are not part of the mafia.”
Bael is suspiciously quiet, but his fingers are tapping out a rhythm on my hip, so I know he's got something going on inside his head.
“You're not… you guys aren't part of a cult, are you?” If they are, it's probably a really cool one considering their lifestyle, but I know for a fact that neither Kai, Marty, nor Shelly will allow me to be part of a cult no matter how cool it is.
I eyeball the door handle and try to judge how fast the limo is going. We're not goingthatfast. If I bail out right now, I bet I'll be okay.
I think Bael notices what I'm doing because his hands grasp my hips firmly. I guess I'm not going anywhere for a little while.
“How the hell are you still alive right now, Wren?” I'm not sure how Travis managed to say that considering that he's laughing so hard I'm concerned he's going to swallow his tongue.
“Bless your little heart,” Laura says to me, and she reaches out like she wants to pat me on the head. At the last minute, Bael’s hand intercepts hers.
“You need consent before touching someone,” Bael says in a growly voice that does amazing things to my nervous system. He wraps his arms around me tightly and tucks my head under his chin.
“It's okay,” I reassure him. “I've gotten used to the fact that everyone seems to want to pet me. I guess that just happens to people who are travel sized.”
Baelhmphsand squeezes me a little tighter.
Shay snorts. “Bael’s hypocrisy aside, I would like to expand on Travis's comment just now. Wren, did you really think the best time to ask a large group of people if they're murderers was to wait until you were trapped in their limo with them?” He says this slowly, like he's trying to spell something out to a 5-year-old.
Hmm… He does have a point.
I tap my chin thoughtfully—as much as a person can when someone huge is wrapped around them like a boa constrictor—and finally land on saying, “I think you would have already killed me if you were going to, so I'm probably fine.”
The limo stops, and everyone stares at me until the door opens next to me and Bael.
“Are we getting out now?” I ask, because no one seems to be moving, and I really am starting to get incredibly hungry.
Bael motions towards the person who opened the door, and the guy hands me a pair of sassy ankle boots and cute little ankle socks. I put them on, and they look absolutely perfect paired with the makeshift dress I'm wearing.
“No accessories?” I ask cheekily, but when Bael says, “Harvey,” in that Lord of the Manor voice from earlier, I rush to say, “I'm kidding! I don't need accessories, just food.”
It doesn't escape my notice that Harvey still vanishes into his phone anyway.
Bael gets out of the limo with me in tow. He tries to princess-carry me, but I kick my feet until he puts me down. He keeps a steadying hand on my back as I take my own weight, and my legs do a little wobble. Seriously, it was the tiniest wobble ever, but Bael still notices and says, “Nope,” and scoops me back up.
“Consent really is a wonderful thing, isn't it?” Travis says randomly.
“I fully agree, my friend. One never can be too careful about body rules when it comes to strangers.” Mel says as they extend a hand to Laura to help her out of the limo.
“I think so too,” I agree. “You've all been incredibly accommodating in that. Other than Allie and the meat walls, that is. You should talk to them about it.”
“Meat walls?” Shay gives a little laugh.
“They’ve been, ah… spoken to,” Harvey assures me.
“No one will ever touch you without your permission again, Wren. I promise.” Bael’s vice is as solemn as the grave.
“Thank you,” I say, and snuggle into Bael as covertly as possible while he carries me into the cutest little diner I have ever seen.
Actually, it looks kind of familiar. At least the outside of it does. “I recognize these neon lights. This is where I passed out, isn't it?”
Travis opens the door for Bael and waves us inside. “Yep! If you'd made it inside, you would have found a good meal whether you could pay for it or not. The people here are always ready to help a queer person—or any person, really—in crisis.” He points at a board on the wall covered in receipts. “These are all meals that people have already paid for. If someone needs food but can't afford it, they can just grab one of these and bring it to the counter.”
“That would have been handy,” I murmur. I’d totally forgotten my wallet right along with my shoes, so a policy like that would be perfect for dumbasses as well as poor people. I'll come here with Kai in the future and buy enough meals to last the folks on this side of Boston until Christmas.
