Chapter 13 #4
Eric’s boyfriend sidled up next to him, snaking a thickly muscled arm around his waist. “Maybe so.” Dwayne pecked a kiss to the side of Eric’s face. “But he’s not the one I want to get out of his skirt tonight. You ready, babe?”
Eric grinned down at him. “Yeah. Just let me get this stuff off before you get too wild. Mitch will kill me if anything gets ripped.”
They wandered off, tossing distracted waves at Caleb, and the most remarkable thing about the entire exchange was that it was entirely unremarkable. Neither one of them had behaved any different than they would have if Caleb had on jeans and a T-shirt.
He stared after them until Mitchell hissed at him from the top of the stage stairs.
”Sorry!” Caleb spun and jogged up the steps, stopping when Mitchell held out a hand to grab his arm and hold him off while he looked him up and down, nodding. “Okay. You were right. No pants.”
“Works?” Caleb asked, nerves skittering along his skin. It somehow mattered that his friend approved.
“Oh, it works.”
“Yeah?” Caleb found he could smile despite his quavering insides.
“Definitely. Now get out here and accept your cheque so we can wrap this thing up and go celebrate.”
“Right.” Taking the hand Mitchell offered him, he stepped out onto the brightly-lit stage to a hearty round of applause and whistles.
It took a moment for the crowd to calm down enough for Mitchell to be heard over the noise, but that gave Caleb a chance to look out and realize that Jase had left his seat.
Trying not to let his disappointment show on his face, he glanced towards the back where Shank had been glaring from earlier.
Shank wasn’t there. Neither were any of his hockey-playing cronies.
Jase was, though, standing with his arms crossed and a fierce look on his face.
Shoulder-to-shoulder with him were a few Student Council members, and the college football and basketball coaches, forming a line across the back of the room.
Not a single one of Caleb’s detractors could be found in the audience.
A strange, light feeling overtook Caleb, and his shoulders relaxed as Angel dropped a hand onto his shoulder to get his attention.
He turned to face Mitchell, accepting the cheque he was holding out and saying thank you, then turning to the audience to say it again.
His gaze fell on Jase as he spoke. “Thank you so much,” he said.
“I can’t tell you—we—can’t tell you,” he corrected, dropping an arm around Mitchell’s shoulders, “what this kind of support means to us.” He held up the check.
“Not only will the kids get a fantastic party this year, but our community here at the college has grown and strengthened in a way I never thought possible. No matter what happens next, I know I can go forward from today with a kind of confidence in all of you that humbles me.” He gave a small nod to Jase. “Thank you. So much.”
Jase was the first to start clapping, his grin wide, his eyes bright.
Mitchell waved one more time, then led the way off the stage as people began to file out of the rows of seating.
Once backstage, he handed the cheque to Angel. “Can you take care of this? Put it in the safe until I can get it to the bank on Monday? I have someplace I need to be.”
Angel’s grin was knowing. “Sure. Good luck.” Angel’s girlfriend was there, and he took her hand. “Ready to stack some chairs, babe?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, but also smiled. “Lead the way.”
“Good.” Mitchell took Caleb’s hand and turned him away from the stage as they left. “One more thing.”
Caleb grimaced. “Now what?”
“Off the runway, stage makeup is tramp makeup. Becky!” Mitchell hauled him towards where the makeup coordinator was just packing up the last of her tools. “I need you, girl,” Mitchell told her.
“Mitch, please. I’m tired. I want to go home. Kenny made supper?—”
“I know, but this is an emergency. My friend here needs to exchange the ‘fuck you’ makeup for ‘fuck me’ makeup. Help. Please?” He batted his big, blue eyes. “With a cherry on top?”
Becky glanced at Caleb.
“I can do my own makeup,” Caleb assured her and pulled free of Mitchell’s grip. “Thanks anyway.”
“What’s the occasion?” she asked, a slight grudging tone to the question.
“He’s off to win back the love of his life.”
“In a skirt?”
“I can do my own makeup, thanks very much,” Caleb said again and turned to leave.
“Does he like the skirt?” Becky called after him.
“That’s what he’s going to find out, isn’t it, Becks? Please. Do this for me. Make him lovely.”
“He already is lovely,” Becky admitted. “Come here, model boy. Let’s have a look at you.” She set her case down on the table and opened it up. “We do have to get this tramp goo off your face. You can’t go see him looking like this.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” Caleb said.
“Shut it.” She pointed to her chair. “Sit.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, but this is my business, and now I’m invested. This is true love, right? Noble cause and all that.”
“The noblest,” Mitchell agreed.
“We’ll see,” Caleb muttered as he hefted himself up into the chair. The plastic was cold on the backs of his legs and he wasn’t sure if that was annoying or intriguing. It was certainly different.
Becky made short work of removing the caked-on stage makeup and then quick, careful progress of applying more subtle enhancements.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Caleb held up a hand in protest when she brought a blush brush towards his face. “Eyeliner and mascara, okay…”
“Trust me.” She batted his hand away and continued.
“I don’t want to look girly.”
She flicked a significant look at his skirt.
“I just want to look like me.”
“But more,” she added. “I’m not going to whore you up. I’m only enhancing your natural beauty. Believe me, there’s plenty there.” She dabbed at his cheeks briefly and set the brush down. “Lip gloss, and we’re all done.”
“No.”
“Mitchell, is he always this horrible?”
“Yes. Caleb, sit still.”
“Jerk.” Caleb shot him a mutinous glare.
“Stop pouting,” Becky said, smacking is arm, “and hold still.”
Caleb relented and let her brush a bit of gloss over his lips. It felt odd, slick, but he had to admit, once she was done, he did look like himself, but more, just as she’d promised.
“Okay?” she asked, one plucked eyebrow raised.
“Okay,” he admitted. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now up and out. I have places to be, sport.”
Caleb hopped down and turned to thank them.
“You’re welcome. Make it work, yeah?” Mitchell said.
Caleb nodded. “Yeah. See you.”
Mitchell waved as Caleb wove his way through the empty seats in front of the stage towards the exit of the student lounge.
“Have fun storming the castle!” Mitchell called.
Caleb just waved over his shoulder without turning, and tried not to think that he’d need a miracle.