Chapter 14
NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS TO ME
Cosmo - Pulling the Thread
The nose-stinging scent of chilies and savory meats floated from down the block. Cosmo was going to buy an horchata and a lengua taco. Scratch that. The lengua burrito grande. It was the only tongue-action he was going to be getting for the rest of forever, so he may as well go all out.
After that, he could go to the deli grandpa used to own and buy a bottle of vodka and a paper bag full of Rotfront candies. Then he’d drive to the church at the end of Cherry Lane, lay down in the dirt, and die.
People would be sad about it, briefly. But they’d get over it. His death would be exactly what everyone knew he’d been in life – Duchamp’s snow shovel. A bizarre novelty that caught people’s attention for a short time, until they grew bored and moved on to something else.
Greasy smoke roiled from the top of the taco truck on the corner, and string lights hanging from patio umbrellas twinkled like gaudy spiderwebs.
A strange intuition suddenly overcame him: he was going to glance over at the decorative brickwork surrounding the flowers, and Micah would be sitting there, waiting for him.
Cosmo turned his head. His stomach dropped.
The only thing sitting on the bricks was an empty beer bottle.
It was just subconscious hope that his sweet, cozy man who only dreamed of holding hands would be here waiting.
Cosmo could message him and beg for forgiveness.
Admit how scared he was. And when Micah insisted Zedd wouldn’t drive him away, Cosmo could choose to believe it.
The itch of fear in his chest over the thought of Zedd hiding in his closet while he had “phone sex” with Micah had dulled to a background irritation.
He’d checked the closets, under the bed, and behind the shower curtain, and no one had been there.
The doors had been locked, the windows closed.
Zedd must have seen him and Micah together earlier in the day, and just so happened to send that text at a creepily coincidental moment.
Or maybe he didn’t know about Micah and was only jealous that Cosmo might be with anybody at all.
But a week after the text message, there’d been a letter with no return address in his mailbox. He should have thrown it away without opening it because the single sentence wouldn’t leave his mind, and he didn’t know if it was a note of romance from Micah or a threat of violence from Zedd.
He could message Micah and ask. No matter the answer, it would give them an excuse to talk.
After pulling out his phone, he opened his Flashbulb messages and stared at Micah’s last line from two weeks previous:
His heart panged. He typed,
A hand gripped his arm, and he gasped, staring into Micah’s face. His mind reeled, the ground tilting beneath him. His heart pounded against his ribs, and he forced himself to take a breath.
“Did my pain conjure you?” Cosmo whispered.
Micah nodded without hesitation, which was not what Cosmo was expecting.
Goosebumps prickled on his skin. Cosmo had never had a premonition before, and it would be so romantic to believe his ache for Micah was pronounced enough for Micah to sense it and come find him.
But with Micah’s hair more disheveled than normal, the lack of color in his cheeks, and the way his hand trembled on his arm, his vibe was giving Cosmo second-hand panic.
“I know you don’t want to see me, but things have gotten extra weird.” Micah’s voice wobbled. “I want to tell you about it, but let’s go somewhere else? Can I buy a lady an ice cream at the Dairy Queen down the block?”
“What kind of weird? Dangerous weird?”
Micah raked back his hair, his gaze darting over Cosmo’s shoulder to the patio and taco truck beyond. “I can’t let you get hurt.”
“Okay.” How desperate would he sound if he admitted he wanted to throw himself into Micah’s strong arms?
That he needed Micah to sweep him away from whatever danger was lurking, whether it was twisted spacetime or just his ex-boyfriend.
Burrow into his chest and tell Micah to never let go.
“Answer me something first, please. Did you send me a letter that said, ‘There’s room for two in your grave’? ”
The whites of Micah’s eyes flashed, and his grip on Cosmo’s arm tightened. “No. Christ. Let’s get out of here.” His gaze was still glued to a spot behind Cosmo, and Cosmo was afraid to turn around for fear Zedd was standing right behind them.
But when he looked back, he only saw strangers sitting at the tables and benches, eating tacos and scrolling through their phones. And was that– “Royce?”
Micah grunted and started to tug him away. “C’mon. Before he sees you.”
“Wait a minute.” He thought of Micah asking how friendly of a friend Royce was, and if he made Cosmo do things. “I thought you were saying I’m in danger because of Zedd. Are you here because of Royce? You’re trying to rescue me from my boss?”
“I don’t have specifics about what’s going to happen because you wouldn’t say–”
“I wouldn’t say? What is it you want me to say? I’ve already told you that Royce is my friend. He’s never done anything untoward, and he’s been a barrier against Zedd.” A hot coal lodged in Cosmo’s chest. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all. “Jealousy is not a good look on you, Micah.”
Micah wiped his hands down his face. “I’m not jealous. But I–”
“I have enough of that with Zedd. All anyone thinks I am is a plaything to be tugged back and forth.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve heard things about Royce. That he wants sexual favors in exchange for portfolio consideration, but that’s–”
“Why is it always Royce that people have a problem with?” He’d always been there when Cosmo needed him as support and a mentor, which was worlds better than his own father had been.
“Someone started a rumor that I like having cigarettes put out on my chest. You want to check to see if it’s true?
” Cosmo unbuttoned his shirt. “It must be, right? Because someone said it!”
“No! Stop that.”
Baring his chest, Cosmo stared at Micah, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. “Do you see any burn marks? Better look for yourself because my word isn’t any good.”
“Cosmo, please,” Micah hissed. “This is an emergency. I’ll explain on the way.” He snatched Cosmo’s arm and tried to tug him away. His cheeks reddened as he glanced at their new audience at the tables around them.
Cosmo ripped free of his grip. “It’s an emergency?
Or am I just embarrassing you? You know, I didn’t think anyone in the art scene bought into rumors.
It happens to all of us so we have a healthy dose of skepticism.
But you don’t have rumors about you, huh?
In order to get them, you’d have to leave your house once in a while! ”
Micah looked like Cosmo had just slid a dagger into his stomach. “Right. Well, this mentally ill, anti-social recluse is still intent on getting you out of harm’s way.” He snatched the placket of Cosmo’s shirt and yanked him forward.
Cosmo slapped Micah across the face hard enough to send his glasses askew. “Stop grabbing me like the misogynistic knight in a fairytale! I’m not your fantasy!”
Putting up his hands, Micah took a step back, mouth agape and chest heaving. His cheek was an angry pink, wire-framed lenses crooked, and there was a look of abject devastation in his eyes.
What the hell had just happened? Cosmo had sunk the knife too deep, thrown Micah’s PTSD back in his face, and slapped him like he was Zedd. As Cosmo opened his mouth to apologize, Micah turned on his heel and strode away.
“Micah–”
The beer bottle fell off the decorative edging beside the flowers as Micah hopped up and pushed through the bushes. It bounced off the concrete and rolled toward Cosmo, bumping into his shoe.
Well, good. Cosmo had wanted him to go away.
Hadn’t he? The amber glass of the beer bottle doubled in his vision.
His emotions tugged him in separate directions until he felt like the figures in Dalí’s The Burning Giraffe, all the drawers of his soul pulled open.
The contents were too jumbled to make sense of any of it.
A firm arm slipped around his shoulders, and he startled. Royce’s woody aftershave filled his nose, his windbreaker crinkling. “Come sit down with me.” He pulled Cosmo toward the taco truck.
Cosmo tried to look back. “Hang on–”
“You’re making a scene.” Royce sat him down on the bench he’d occupied previously. His voice came out with a hard, commanding edge that wasn’t normally directed at Cosmo. “Button your damn shirt. People are staring at you.”
It was hard to see the buttons through the blear in his eyes, and his fingers were shaking, but he managed to get his shirt done up again. Royce’s expression was unreadable, and Cosmo couldn’t bear to have the director disappointed in him.
He hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Royce’s voice softened. “Oh, to be young and gorgeous and have too many men after you.”
“It’s wretched. I’m so tired. I should just move away and change my name.”
Royce rested his hand on Cosmo’s shoulder. “I know I won’t be around every time to scare these guys away, but I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
“Oh, Royce.” Cosmo sniffled, and when Royce tugged him closer, he leaned against him and pressed his nose into Royce’s collar.
A tiny seed of doubt sprouted in his mind, entertaining the idea that Micah might be right about the director’s intentions.
But Cosmo immediately crushed the thought.
He was not going to let the words of a jealous romantic interest drive a wedge between him and one of his only remaining sources of support.
He said to Royce, “You’re so good to me.
Do you want to go snap Zedd’s neck to get rid of one of my man problems?
” He looked up at him and batted his lashes. “Pretty please?”