Chapter 26 The Fourth Fairy in the Room
Shimmer Library did not live up to what the name implied—the shining, gleaming part. Its entrance was covered by a thick concrete slab of a portico supported by four squat concrete pillars. Hospital ambulance portals had more appeal.
Matt was on the second floor where a bank of glass provided a sentry’s view of the entry below. He was watching to see if Colton came alone or tried double-crossing the GM in their own double-cross.
Colton swaggered up the steps. He was alone. He was taking the bait, as William had predicted he would.
Matt scrambled to take up a new position behind a double-sided row of bookshelves.
He peered through a gap in the books, waiting for Colton to emerge from the stairwell and approach the conference room.
Colton strode to the door. Spied through its narrow window, probably checking whether Paul was alone, as promised.
Paul wasn’t—alone, that is, but it looked that way. Paul sat at the little conference table, nervously cleaning his glasses.
Matt crept up behind Colton.
Colton squared his shoulders, reached for the knob, pushed open the door.
Matt rushed forward, shoved him inside, followed, and closed the door behind him.
Matt stood, blocking the exit.
Colton whirled around, glared at him.
“Hi Colton.” William emerged from the room’s shadowed corner.
Colton spun to face William.
William set a small wooden box on the conference table, then took a seat beside Paul. He gestured at the other side of the table. “We’re overdue for a little chat,” he said. “Take a seat.”
Colton crossed his arms. Remained standing. “Three fairies in one room? If you’re trying to intimidate me, it isn’t working.”
“Suit yourself,” William said. He reached for the little box and toyed with its latched lid.
The box was an antique-looking thing. Dark wood with carved, lighter wood inlays.
It was maybe nine inches long, five inches wide, four inches deep.
Matt guessed it to be the sort of box where Victorian ladies had stored keepsakes, but he had no idea what role it would play in this meeting. Only William knew that.
“Nana Vance kept her old love letters from Papa Vance in here,” William said. He caressed the box lovingly, still not opening it. “Sometimes, in the years after Papa Vance died, I’d see Nana sitting in her chair, re-reading his letters, crying.”
Colton sighed and took a seat at the table. “The women in your family are obviously overly sentimental, which explains a lot about you.”
William ignored the jibe, opened the box’s lid, and peered into it with sadness in his eyes. “Nana died when I was a sophomore in high school. That’s when this box became mine. I couldn’t wait to fill it with letters and cards from my lover.”
Colton fidgeted nervously. He glared at the little box.
“I had to wait two years before I got my first love letter,” William said.
He rifled through the box’s contents, pulled out a Christmas card.
He held the card up for them all to see the front image: Snow everywhere.
On the ground. Falling from the sky. Two birds in the foreground, pecking at a seedball.
The caption across the top read: “Find Love in the Little Things This Season.”
William scrunched his face in distaste. “We thought that was so funny, pecking at a seedball. Like it was our little inside joke about balls or something. Little balls. We were ghastly, but then we were only eighteen. And it was the tackiest time of the year.”
William opened the card. “It’s dated December 17, 1992.”
Matt grinned. He finally saw where this was headed.
William pointed at the handwriting. “Addressed to me. By name.”
William’s eyes scanned down the card, reading it. He stopped at the bottom, giggled, then read it aloud. “With all my cock and all my love!”
“Oh, look here,” William pointed towards the bottom of the card. “It’s signed by the fourth fairy sitting in this room! Imagine that!”
Colton jumped to his feet. His face was flushed. He pointed at the wooden box. “I want all of those!” he hissed.
Matt saw sweat glistening on the back of Colton’s neck. The guy’s fear was palpable. That card could do more than ruin him at MCU. He’d never get elected to the state legislature, much less Governor. Oklahomans hated fags almost as much as did the good Christians at MCU.
William snapped the box lid closed, kept hold of the seedball card. “This is all that’s on the table,” he said. “Literally and figuratively.”
He laid the card down. “What are you willing to pay for this love letter, Colton, dahling? This love letter to yours truly?”
“Ever hear the phrase ‘any port in a storm?’” Colton asked. “That’s all you were to me. A hole to dock my cock ‘cuz real pussy wasn’t available. Geez, dahling! Get over it already.”
Matt was exhausted by Colton’s performance. “Fairy” this. “Pussy” that. It was a parody of a homophobe. A farce. But it wasn’t funny. Wasn’t light-hearted. Wasn’t necessary.
It was cruel.
Matt grabbed Colton’s shoulder, spun him around, popped him in the jaw with a quick upper cut.
Colton’s eyes went wide with surprise, then winced in pain. He staggered back, confused. Wiped away tears.
Watching Colton, Matt had the sudden realization that this pampered bully had never, in his entire miserable existence, been on the receiving end of violence. Colton Langley, who hunted fags for sport, could dish it out, but he couldn’t take it.
“Sit down,” Matt ordered Colton. “And show William some respect. Don’t give me another excuse to pop you.”
Colton’s bluster evaporated. He sank into his chair, rubbing his jaw.
The negotiation progressed from there.
Colton agreed to drop his extortion plot, to leave Matt and Paul alone—in exchange for the seedball card.
William wanted an abeyance on targeting any other gays—ever.
Colton wouldn’t agree to that unless William handed over the contents of the wooden box.
William shook his head.
They settled on a moratorium for the rest of the year.
“Calendar year or academic year?” Paul interrupted.
“Academic,” William said.
Colton agreed to that as well. MCU’s gays were safe through May 1996. Eight months more or less.
“I want Matt to resign from SGA,” Colton stipulated.
William shook his head. “Not negotiable.”
Colton fumed. “Fine. But I want it understood that our agreement only extends to other fairies on campus. No one else is protected. No one. Deal?”
The deal was made. There was no handshake.
Colton left with the seedball card.
“Well done, dahlings!” William exulted once they were alone. “Shall we retire to the clubhouse and toast our success?”
That sounded good to Matt.
“What success?” Paul asked. He pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“Colton’s still winning this chess match.
He’s taken out two of our pawns: Adam and that other freshman from Gay Chapel.
He almost took out Matt or me. Meanwhile, we haven’t captured any of his pieces.
He controls the board. All we did was pause the game. ”
“Not everything is about chess,” William said. There was exasperation in his voice. He stood and tucked the wooden box under his arm. He was ready to go.
Matt agreed with William. Paul was obsessed with chess. Still, Matt was troubled by that last thing Colton had said, that their deal only applied to “fairies.” What else did he have in mind?
“Hold on,” Matt said to William. “Just curious. If Paul is right—”
“I am right,” Paul interrupted.
“—If Paul is right, and Colton keeps up his ‘chess game,’ how many more of your old love letters do we have for leverage?”
William shrugged. “None.”
“In your ‘Nana’s’ box.” Matt pointed to the box. Surely William had misunderstood the question. “How many other love letters or cards from Colton do you have?”
“Again. None.” William said. “That card was it. This box and the other papers in it were just props.”
“Props?”
William rolled his eyes. “Like I would ever call anyone ‘Nana!’ Honestly, Matthew, I sometimes worry that you really are just a pretty jock after all. There are no Vances in my family tree. This kitschy box cost me five dollars at a junk store.”
Matt sat down. He felt suddenly tired. Defeated. Now Colton Langley believed this box was crammed with letters and cards that could damn him. He would not stop until he had them all.
“Why?” Matt asked.
William eased himself into a chair. He took a deep breath.
When he spoke, his voice was small, devoid of his usual bravado.
“I knew I had to trade that card to save you and Paul. It seemed so pathetic to just walk in here clutching one card. I wanted to have a little power over Colton. I’ve spent the last three years being pitiful. ”
Paul just stood there, blinking at them from behind his glasses. No doubt he was thinking about chess.
Matt sighed. He understood, sort of. He’d never been in love, could not imagine a love like William’s that clung to the memory of the person Colton had once been.
Could not imagine spending three long years in the shadow of his lost love, scorned and mocked.
He probably would have wanted props as well.
Matt gave William a side hug. “The important thing is that you saved Paul and me. Thank you!”
William managed a half smile.
“Obviously you don’t think of this Colton problem as a chess game,” Matt said to William. “I get that. But I know you have a plan. You told me you did. That’s why you had me run for SGA. Now would be a good time to let us in on the secret.”
William smiled, sat taller. “Isn’t it obvious, dahling? Colton’s term as president of SGA expires in May. He plans to run for re-election. You’re going to run against him and win!”
Matt felt panic coursing through him. This was William’s plan?
Even if Matt defeated Colton, surely a first for a freshman to run for president, what real difference would it make?
Colton might not be president, but he would still be a student.
He would have his entire senior year—free of the hassles of SGA—to hunt fags.
Matt realized that Paul had been right. Colton was playing chess, aiming for checkmate. Had been all along. The GM had been playing many games, might even have succeeded in protecting most of their members from Colton’s schemes. But they had never made a single chess move.
Paul summed up Matt’s sentiments. “We’re fucked!” he said.