Bowl Full of Cherries (17 page)

“Good advice,” Rell replied, fighting to keep his hands from searching again. Even after all that had happened, all he wanted was to touch Crowley. Explore. Be nearer to him.

“It
is
good advice. I just couldn’t hear it back then.” Crowley let out a long, low sigh. “I don’t want to be afraid of my body anymore. I just don’t know how to do that. Maybe Sondra’s photos….”

Rell squeezed Crowley’s hands tightly. He raised them both to his lips and kissed each knuckle in turn.

“I don’t know that it would work. It probably
won’t
work. But—”

“You don’t have to justify it to me or to yourself, Owl. Just say what it is you want.”

“I don’t want to be afraid to be naked when I’m alone or… with you. Maybe Sondra’s pictures can help.”

“Maybe,” Rell agreed, careful not to be overly enthusiastic. Truth was, he thought it was the most brilliant idea he’d ever heard. But this was Crowley’s journey, and he’d already screwed things up once by not moving at the other man’s speed. So Rell chose to be cautiously optimistic. He smiled and nodded.

“Will you…? I mean you don’t have to, but do you think you might want to… be with me when it happens?”

God, there weren’t enough ways to say “Yes!”

“S
ONDRA
?”

Crowley had found her outside standing calf-deep in the glittering snow. She looked over her shoulder at him and half smiled, camera raised toward the back of the Mrs. Claus cutout. There wasn’t much to see there, just the outline of the figure, unpainted wood, and a metal rod screwed to the cutout. Sondra’s face glowed with pleasure, though, as if taking photos of the back of Christmas decorations was the most exciting shoot in the entire world.

“Crowley,” she said brightly. “You feeling better?”

He nodded. Having talked with Rell, deciding on a course of action, and being out here now in the chill, brisk air, he definitely felt better.

The sun was burning out of the sky, casting long shadows across the yard from the neighbor’s evergreens. Some animal had made tiny tracks across the otherwise unmolested landscape. He stared off into the sunset for a moment and took a deep breath. Rell was just inside the door, waiting for him. If things got too tough, all he had to do was motion and Rell would come running.

“Is the offer still good? For the pictures?”

Sondra nodded quickly, and her smile became even more radiant. “I was hoping you’d ask!” For a moment Crowley could see firsthand that Sondra and Rell were related. She had the same wide, welcoming smile. “You want to do it now?”

Now?
His stomach went tight at the thought, and at the same time, the excitement might be enough to see him through it. He glanced back at Rell, who smiled comfortingly at him from behind the glass door. “Uh… I think everyone is getting ready for the candlelight service.”

She frowned and sighed. “Yeah, and the light really is fading.” What did the light have to do with anything? They weren’t going to take the photos outside, were they? “Makes sense,” she said, pushing back her straw-colored hair. “I’ve got a lot of really good ideas for what we’ll do. We’ll use Mom and CeCe’s room.”

“Um… won’t they—?”

“Not if I tell them what we’re doing.” At his shocked look, she laughed and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s cool. I’ve done couples’ boudoir photography for them. It’s no big.”

Hesitation started to brew within Crowley. It definitely would have been better if they could have jumped into the session immediately. He’d been so intent on making his willingness to be a model known, Crowley hadn’t even considered the sort of apprehension he’d feel, having to wait.

“I’m going to be truthful. I’m scared to death.”

“You know what? If you want, I will tell you every single thing that’s going to happen. I know it can be nerve-wracking at first, but I promise, once you get into it, you won’t even care that you’re nude.”

Somehow he doubted that, but he smiled anyway.

“I’ll come get you when it’s time,” she said. “Oh, and Crowley? You and Rell were really cute together at the Livery. You should bring him to the shoot.”

Crowley turned again to look at Rell, only to find that he and his brother were talking animatedly in the doorway. Crowley flushed. Were they arguing again? Except when Tyler looked at Crowley, he held up his phone and gave a thumbs-up and a huge smile.

Crowley shook his head in confusion. What was going on? Tyler was a cat-grinner and he rarely gave a toothy smile. When he did, Tyler and Rell looked even more like twins. It made Crowley wish he could get a picture with the two of them, laughing, no-holds-barred smiles on their faces.

Tyler pushed open the glass front door, dragging a reluctant Rell out into the snow.

“They’re having a private conversation, Tyler,” Rell was saying. “Would you just leave it?”

“Whatever you two are talking about, totally stuff it for five seconds and listen to this. The Emporium Sound is still in town. They’re down at Bear’s Beans on the Square and they are going to do a caroling flash mob.”

“That’s awesome,” Crowley said, looking from Sondra to Rell.

“We have to leave
right now
.”

“You want us to drive down to the Square—for a flash mob—and risk not getting back in time for candlelight service? Do you realize how deadly-dead we’ll be if we’re not back in time?”

“We’ll be back,” Tyler said, waving off his brother. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and I
do not
want to miss it. Consider it your Christmas present to me.”

“Aw,” Rell said. “But what am I going to do with all the pretentious sweaters and skinny jeans I bought you?”

“C’mon guys,
now
.”

Crowley did not tell the group that this would be Tyler’s third flash-mob of the month or that the first two had been music-related. It wasn’t really as once-in-a-lifetime as he made it seem, but he was happy and Crowley liked when Tyler was happy. So he said, “I’ll be the timekeeper. If you tell me how much time we need to get back here before candlelight service, then I’ll make sure we’re out of the Square by then.”

“See, Crowley’s on board! Sondra, you coming?”

She held up her camera in agreement.

“It’ll be fun,” Crowley promised, moving closer to Rell, who caught his pinky with his own and locked them. Crowley smiled.

T
YLER
WAS
a little kid racing toward a candy store after they’d parked at the empty Farmers’ Market, except instead of candy, his prize was fellow music-lovers and scene kids, all gathered in Susset’s historic downtown. He ran ahead, skidding on ice a few times but keeping himself upright.

“Walk faster, guys!” he cried and Crowley smothered a laugh. Rell did not and he barked into the cold evening air. For once, Tyler wasn’t goaded. He probably didn’t notice.

The downtown was decorated in elegant gold lights; every store had the same strings of lights, and the uniformity was picturesque. The city had also hung huge wreaths from the street lamps, and there was a banner that said,
Happy Holidays, Love Susset
.

Sondra stopped every once in a while to snap the odd picture, but he thought the quaint decorations didn’t hold her interest, because most of the time the camera stayed around her neck.

Even before they passed the Susset firehouse, they could hear the swell of singing. This prodded Tyler farther and faster, and Crowley grabbed Rell’s arm and they picked up the pace as well.

They passed the post office, closed for the holiday, and a small bank, a yoga studio, and three different antiques stores. As they came down the hill, they caught their first sight of people, illuminated in the warm yellow glow of one of the streetlights. It was a group of girls, bundled up warmly, their heads thrown back, singing at the tops of their lungs.

By the time they turned onto Main Street, Crowley had to stop and catch his breath. Tyler had disappeared, swallowed up by the singing flash mob. Rell waited with him.

“Thanks for doing this for him,” Rell said.

“I always do,” Crowley said.

They were singing “The First Noel” and moving very slowly up Main Street, away from the train tracks and Papa’s Italiano, toward old, beautiful houses.

“You’re a good friend to him.”

“He’s a pretty good friend to me, too,” Crowley said. Rell pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Well, are we going to get the full flash mob experience?”

They walked arm-in-arm at the back of the group, heading slowly through the downtown residential district, singing traditional carols and new songs, alike. A couple of people had grabbed the lead singer of The Emporium Sound and held him aloft, marching him at the head of the group like they were carrying a hero. He shouted from his place on high, encouraging them all to “Sing louder!”

People came out of their homes to see the procession as it marched through the slick streets, and a few of them even joined. A woman in her pajamas had thrown on a parka and was walking near Crowley and Rell, singing with the joyfully off-key abandon that made group song so unique and wonderful.

They tried a round, to disastrous effect—half of the group forgetting when they were supposed to come in, so that the song stuttered over itself. The lead singer—who had jumped down from his human throne—ran around to the back of the group, shouting encouragement to them all. Tyler followed a few minutes later, his eyes shining, his cheeks flushed. It was the most excited Crowley had seen his roommate in a very long while, and it made him happy.

At the top of the hill, their leader gave the command to split in two directions, so the mass of people became two smaller, but still impressively sized groups. Rell and Crowley followed to the west, singing “Mistletoe!” and kissing each other at breaks in the song. Their group was the first to get back to the Square, after making the big circuit. Without their enthusiastic music director, people started to fall away, heading back to their cars and their homes and their coffee.

“You want to keep singing?” Rell asked when it was only the two of them and about five other hardcore carolers.

“I could take a cuppa,” Crowley said, and so they went into Bear’s Beans, which was packed with the remnants of the flash mob. Crowley grinned to himself. They hadn’t really gotten that dispersing thing down, trapped by the allure of caffeine. He ordered a mocha latte for himself and a black coffee for Rell, and they stood in the corner while the harried barista made their drinks.

Crowley’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was the alarm he’d set to warn them when it was time to go.

“It’ll be fine,” Rell said uncertainly.

“I haven’t known your mother very long, Averell, but I don’t know how
fine
she’s going to be if we miss church.”

“You already know her well.”

Crowley stepped outside, looking for the other half of the flash mob. They were nowhere in sight. He quickly called Tyler, hoping his friend would hear the ring over the sound of caroling. A second before it would have kicked to voice mail, Tyler answered, shouting into the phone.

“Crowley! Where are you guys?”

“We’re at Bear’s Beans.”

He could hear them. There was shouting and noise in the background.

“What’s going on?”

“Fight broke out!” Tyler called. “I’m looking for Sondra! Meet you back at the car!”

This was not the first time one of Tyler’s flash mobs had resulted in a fight, and Crowley wondered if this was like the Fire Five mob—because Tyler had been directly involved in that fight. Who got into a fight over Christmas carols?

Crowley went back inside where Rell had picked up their drinks. The warm paper cup felt like bliss against his palm.

“Flash mob got ugly. Your brother’s looking for Sondra. He wants us to go back to the car.”

Rell just shook his head.

“S
HOULD
WE
call your mom?” Crowley asked. “Or the police?” He’d dropped his voice low for no reason other than the space inside the car was so still and quiet. He and Rell were in the backseat, pressed close to one another. Even without any particularly heavy making out (though they may have stolen a kiss or two) the windows had started to fog up.

“Nah and definitely not,” Rell said. “If we get the police involved and Tyler gets arrested… well, have you ever seen a grown-ass man get turned over his mother’s knee and spanked? Because that’s what’s going to happen to me and Tyler, and I hate to say it, but you might get it too, Crowley.”

Crowley grinned. “I guess he’s been through worse scrapes.”

“He told you about that?”

“What?” Crowley asked. “I just meant this isn’t the first flash mob that got a little rough.”

“Oh.” Rell’s laugh was strong and beautiful, and Crowley could have melted into it.

“Why, what were you talking about?”

“Tyler in high school,” Rell said. “I know everyone thinks I’m the slacker and the screw-up, but Tyler, he loved to push buttons. Thought he was a big bad activist. Was always protesting and starting fights and vandalizing things. He got away with most of it—but it was when he put the bra and panties on the Harold Susset statue that he got caught by the cops. His lamest prank, it didn’t even
mean
anything. He wasn’t protesting Old Man Susset or anything—and that’s when he gets caught.” Rell kissed Crowley’s hair and his forehead and his cheek, and then he stole a lingering kiss. “Make sure you give him hell about it, all right?”