Carte blanche, p.40
Carte Blanche, page 40
“Well, the ex, then the therapist among a bunch of other people, then the ex again, then the cousin.” Tara paused, then leaned forward to ask Antonio, “Are you related to the guy who runs the taco truck that’s always parked by the museum?”
“Him?” Antonio gasped. “No, but he’s so old!”
“No, it was his nephew,” Tara shrugged. “But old people can be hot, too.”
“Wait, was it in the taco truck?” Gabe asked.
Tara’s cheeks turned pink. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”
“Nice.” Gabe held out a fist, which Tara bumped.
“Aren’t we here to talk about the weekend, not this road trip down memory lane?” Lee rubbed Antonio’s shoulder, uncomfortable with hearing so much about Tara’s sex life. Sure, he’d known there was someone Tara had slept with at the museum who’d called her Stargirl. And sure, he’d been aware of Tara’s rendezvous in the taco truck. But he liked that she was happily partnered with Gabe now, instead of putting herself in all these risky situations for a meaningless—
Lee sighed. This was what Jazz had been talking about. This judgment, this discomfort, this was his dad talking again. Maybe not the echo of his voice or a direct quote, but that was still Leland Senior in his head.
And Lee had been the controlling asswipe to his sister, because that was how he’d been taught a big brother should be, the kind of son his dad wanted. He couldn’t be both a good brother, or a good husband, and be a good son. Not to his parents. Given the choice, Lee would rather be a shitty son than lose Jazz’s trust, get disowned by his parents again than fail Antonio.
Gabe’s laugh made him jump. “Yeah, I admit I was a little overconfident about going back there. Everything has been going so well, so easily, that I thought this anxiety was me being a dramatic pessimist again, but I should have trusted my instincts better.” Gabe squeezed Tara’s hand. “But even if it’s not as easy as I expected, I’m still confident that we will work through whatever we face together. This was a shitty reminder that love doesn’t fix shit. Not on its own. Instead, we have to fix shit, and we will, because we love each other.”
“Damn straight!” Tara snorted. “I just wish I could have permanently fixed her, but we’ll have to trust Phin can use that recording.”
“You did the right thing, Kitten. Fighting her wouldn’t have helped anyone.”
“I know,” Tara huffed. “That’s why I didn’t! I guess…” She smiled up at Lee. “It’s like when we were young. You didn’t need me to fight for you, like my mom did. You were safer with me at your side, just being there for you. That’s the kind of parent and partner I need to be, a wall to protect and lean on, instead of a fist,” Tara pouted. “Even though I would much rather snap her fucking—” She paused. “Not gonna finish that sentence.”
“Just remember to lean on me too, Kitten,” Gabe murmured.
Joy smiled, eyes drifting to their end of the couch. “Antonio, you’ve been quiet. Anything you want to add? Anything to advocate for yourself, perhaps?”
Antonio huffed, then turned to Lee. “I can’t be famous.”
“Okay!” Lee nodded, swallowing his pang of disappointment. “We won’t be famous, then.”
“No, Lee, I can’t be famous. Not we.” Antonio’s hazel eyes turned shiny as his lower lip trembled.
Ears rushing, Lee’s chest ached. Had he been that bad of a husband? “Are you…are you leaving me?” Scooting down the couch closer to him, Tara silently took his hand.
“Oh wow, he does have abandonment issues,” Joy murmured. “Lee, what did Antonio say that led you to the conclusion that he was leaving you?”
“He doesn’t want us to be a ‘we’ anymore.” Lee frowned, skin burning. How else was he supposed to interpret that? He swallowed, listening for anything to focus on, finally finding a quiet tick-tick-tick from Joy’s clock as he squeezed Tara’s hand.
“Lee, of course, I’m not leaving you!” Antonio groaned, clutching Lee’s arm. “I love being your husband. I want to be your husband for the rest of our lives. I just can’t be in the spotlight. You have so much talent and passion, and I love that you want to use it to make me shine, but I can’t be the face of your career.” Antonio looked up then, his hazel eyes earnest. “If it weren’t for you, I would have sabotaged this months ago, and that tells me I’m doing all of this for you, not me. I’m burning out, and we’ve barely started. You need to shine, and you’re in a great place to take off. But I need to step back to keep myself grounded.”
“Okay,” Lee nodded, the knot in his chest loosening ever so slightly. “I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t apologize, Angel!” Antonio huffed. “You’re sorry! Sorry for what? Being supportive? For being sweet? No! We can still be perfect for each other, we can still be the baddest power couple in Bellamy, but our lives can be a little less wrapped up in each other’s. You can do anything and everything you set your mind to, and I am happy being an underpaid public school teacher and a never-was drag queen. There are other artists who want the spotlight more, who need you to light them up.”
The waver in Antonio’s voice told Lee that his husband needed a distraction from the demons. He smirked. “You kind of lost me on the metaphor. I’m the sound guy, Freddy runs lights.”
“I can’t with you!” Antonio laughed. “Oh, and I can’t be your parent’s son-in-law, unless they seriously fix their shit. And before you jump to conclusions again, no, I’m not suggesting divorce. I simply do not want to see them unless they start treating us better.”
“Oh okay! We’ll just tack that on to the conversation,” Lee teased, his stomach plummeting despite his light tone. His ears found the tick-tick-tick of the clock again, as his mind raced for what to say. “I promise to say something next time.” He paused, skin burning as his chest tightened again. “Wait, that’s Thanksgiving, so maybe not—” Tara pinched his side; Lee groaned. “No, yeah. If we’re gonna ruin some relationships, Thanksgiving is the time to do it. I promise, I will call them out on their bullshit. Set some boundaries, clear expectations for what’s acceptable or not. Is that okay?”
Antonio’s relieved smile and nod melted Lee’s anxiety away. This was what his husband needed, and being a good husband was what Lee had to—no, what Lee wanted to prioritize. Himself, being Antonio’s husband, and a better brother.
Once the conversation moved away from him, Lee discretely pulled out his phone to text Jazz.
Lunch today?
I’m literally leaving for a road trip in a couple hours. Why aren’t you in New York?
Some shit went down.
…that’s not concerning at all.
We’re good, promise. Just came home early. Lunch when you’re back then? Does Monday work?
What’s going on?
We haven’t had lunch together in a while, so I thought we could catch up. Just the two of us, like we used to.
…Yeah, okay. Monday works.
Lee tucked his phone away, before anyone could call him out for being rude. Part of him wished he could talk to Jazz now, clear the air after everything, apologize for how he’d been acting the past few weeks, months—her whole life, honestly.
But he had no idea what he wanted to say yet. The weekend would give him time to think on how the fuck he could fix things with Jazz.
Richard
Richard and Sunny might have overpacked for a weekend away. Their suitcase alone took up half of the trunk; their food would take up the other half. Sunny trotted up the sidewalk to Blanche’s front porch, lugging the massive cooler inside to pack with road trip snacks. Richard huffed, his breath frosting. The bite of winter was already sharp in the air, and the hedges surrounding Blanche’s house were bare. Everyone’s sleeping bags and coats would have to go in the third row. As Richard shut the trunk to follow her, his phone vibrated in his coat pocket.
Gabe: Hey, so good news and bad news.
Phin: Ooh, good news first.
Gabe: All four of us made it back safe and sound from New York.
Richard frowned, closing the front gate behind him. They were supposed to come back on Sunday.
What happened?
Antonio: More of who than a what.
Richard froze at the top step of the porch, fighting to keep his heart rate down. They’re safe. He’s home safe.
“You okay?” Sunny asked, looking over her shoulder. Her twin braids framed her face under her purple knit beanie.
“Go ahead without me. I’ll be there in a second.” He waved his phone. “Gabe stuff.”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “At least it’s not work. Make it quick—Jazz will be back from class any minute. I want to get going!”
Hitting the “call” button on the group chat, Richard pressed the phone to his ear before the front door swung shut, waiting impatiently for the first person to pick up. “What happened,” he demanded as soon as the line connected.
“Oh, you know, you were right,” Antonio groaned. “Just her stalker ass creeping on my Instagram.”
Richard’s jaw tightened as two more beeps joined the call. “Tonio, I told you to blur him out.”
“I did!” Antonio protested. “He and Tara were both barely visible, and I emoji-ed him out.”
“I told him it was fine before he posted it,” Gabe said. “I wouldn’t have recognized myself.”
“You do cut a rather distinctive figure,” Phineas added. “You should crop him out next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Gabe reported.
“Read my mind.” Richard paced a circle around the porch, minding the spots that felt dangerously soft. “Did you record it at least?”
“Tara did,” Antonio said.
“Ooh, Tara talked to her? Catfight! Rawr!”
Antonio groaned. “Oh my god, Phin!”
With a heavy sigh, Richard rubbed his forehead. “Seriously, do you think before you speak?”
“Not if I don’t have to.”
Gabe groaned. “Yeah, Tara talked to her and recorded the whole thing. Tonio emailed it to you this morning, Phin.”
“I didn’t fight her, though!” Tara called from the background.
“Surprised you hadn’t already slept with her, honestly,” Antonio muttered.
Tara laughed. “Sorry that I unintentionally slept with your therapist like two years ago. It won’t happen again!”
“She called you Stargirl! I’m going to think about that every time I have therapy!”
“To be honest, I think Joy understands my two years of pining a lot more now.” Gabe snorted. “Do you remember which exhibit it was?”
“Can we focus?” Richard asked, doing another lap of the front porch, nodding at Jazz who waved as she climbed up the front steps. “So we have evidence that she violated the protection order. That’s useful.”
“Sure is!” Phin said. “You got a nice camera angle at the end there. We can definitely use this.”
“Watch out for the soft spot. We haven’t fixed the rotten bits out here yet.” Jazz pointed to the edge of the porch where the wood was worn.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome!” Antonio chimed in.
“I was thanking Jazz, Tonio, not you.” Richard rolled his eyes as Jazz grinned before she went in. “What are you taking credit for?”
“I put the phone in Tara’s leggings pocket so she could—Wait, why are you with Jazz?”
“Oh. Uh…we’re going on a road trip?” Richard shoved a hand in his pocket; his fingers were starting to go numb. “Sunny wanted to do something fun while you were out of town.” Richard was half-tempted to cancel it now that Gabe and Antonio were back, but Tara would be who Gabe needed more than Richard. And he did need to invest more energy into friendships other than Gabe’s; Blanche and Jazz were pleasant enough to be around.
“Where was my invite?”
Unlike Phineas, whose friendship was a lesson in patience. Richard was unsure if he should share that they were bringing Blanche back to their hometown. His only option left was to make the trip sound as unappealing for Phineas as possible. “We’re going to the SPAM museum.”
“I still wanna come! I love road trips!”
“Don’t you have to do…whatever it is you need to do with Gabe’s case, with the video?” Richard hoped the others wouldn’t hate him; he could already feel himself caving to the hurt in Phineas’s voice.
“I’ve got a new junior associate who wants to move into criminal defense. She can work on it, and I’ll review it on Monday before we submit anything,” Phineas said. “I’ve been trying to have more work-life balance or whatever, and I’ve been out of the loop with y’all. This sounds like that social bonding shit my therapist has been after me to do.”
If Phineas ever did it on purpose, Richard would consider him one of the most skilled emotional manipulators he knew. Because Richard had been after him for years to work fewer hours, to spend time with his friends, to go to therapy. It was rare that Richard spent any significant time with Phineas, let alone with Sunny too. They barely knew each other. And Antonio wouldn’t be there, so he wouldn’t have to buffer between them… Richard sighed. “I’ll ask, but no promises.”
“Yessss!”
“I kind of want to go now, too!” Antonio chimed in.
“Hell no,” Richard said.
“Fuck you, I wasn’t inviting myself along, Dicky. I also had an emotional roller coaster in the past forty-eight hours. My normal routine sounds like heaven right now.”
The bitterness in Antonio’s voice made him pause; Antonio must be a little too raw for their usual banter. “I’m glad you’re back home then. Both of you.”
“Love you too, Dicky!”
For once, Richard didn’t snark in response. The four of them said their goodbyes as Richard slipped into the house, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t been inside since the housewarming party, when it’d been empty and stuffy and reeking of furniture polish. He’d expected it to be as cluttered, cramped, and chaotic as Blanche’s apartment had been. But the house was…homey. Lived-in. The cozy warmth was scented with incense. Candles and crystals surrounded a catchall bowl of keys on the entry table. Blankets were tossed casually over the sofa, and plants overflowed their pots in the windows.
“Blanche—are you blushing?” Sunny’s voice teased from the kitchen. “This is so fucking cute!”
“Babygirl, stop pointing it out!” Blanche pressed their hands against their cheeks as Jazz grinned into her fist. “I can’t control it!”
“And miss the opportunity to tease you? Hell no! You remember how much shit you gave me when I started seeing Richard?” Sunny pealed with laughter, clapping in delight as Blanche hid their face in their bedazzled jean jacket.
Richard cleared his throat. “I was emotionally blackmailed into this, but is anyone strongly opposed to Phin coming with us?”
Sunny cocked her head, her frown suspicious. “I don’t mind, but do you? He talks a lot.”
Richard wrinkled his nose. “Less than Antonio, and we survived driving him to the cabin. I’m fine with it if you all are.”
“Aren’t we renting a two-bedroom?” Blanche asked, biting their lip. “Where will he sleep?”
“There’s a pullout couch,” Sunny suggested. “It sleeps six.”
Blanche and Jazz exchanged a look. Jazz shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t flirt with me, I don’t mind.”
How soon can you get here? I want to leave.
FUCK YES!!!!
I’m already on my way home to pack. I had a good feeling about this.
You’re not allowed to flirt with anyone in the car.
Who would I flirt with? You?
Sunny, Jazz, and Blanche are coming. No flirting with any of them.
Boo, no fun. But fine. I’m sure I’ll find some hot nerds at the SPAM museum.
Richard snorted. Of course. Maybe it was a good thing he’d be coming along. Much like Antonio, Phineas made everything an adventure. Without a push, Richard would probably spend the whole trip fretting about the Emily situation. There was nothing Phineas’s team couldn’t handle, and nothing that needed Richard micromanaging everyone. Gabe and Antonio would need a quiet weekend with their partners to recover from their short-lived trip; Richard was free to have fun with Sunny, and their other friends.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jazz
Jazz had had low expectations walking into the thinly veiled commercial for mystery meat, a mere hour before it closed. Driving through a small town (where the only sign of a Black community was a Sudanese grocery store), when she’d only ever taken weekend trips to Chicago with her parents, had Jazz out of her comfort zone. Their motley crew stood out like a sore thumb—from Blanche’s bedazzled jacket to Phineas’s white wool trench—amongst the Carharrts and flannels.
Despite her trepidation, she, Blanche, and Phineas had stayed entertained enough, especially in the gift shop. Meanwhile Sunny and Richard had read every sign, inspected every display, and played all of the interactive games in record time. Of all the new experiences Jazz had expected from living with Blanche, this had not been one of them. Still, Blanche looked adorable in their new SPAM hat.
“So what was Lee like as a kid?” Phineas asked Jazz, holding the door open for everyone as they trooped out of the strange museum that Sunny had been looking forward to. They still had three hours to go before they reached their rental (Blanche admitted that they had perhaps underestimated how close the SPAM museum was to their hometown), but the break in driving had been nice.
Shivering from the sharp wind, Jazz wrapped her cream puffer jacket tighter on the walk through the parking lot. “Honestly, not much different. Overprotective doormat.”
