Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hank

Now

Something had been up with Finn for the last couple of days, his mood more like when he’d first entered Hank’s life, quiet and withdrawn. In his desperation to find out what was going on, he’d even asked Henry if something had happened the other day at the clinic. Henry had recounted their afternoon and aside from Finn leaving rather abruptly, he’d been in a great mood. When Hank had asked Henry to define abruptly, Henry had mentioned something about some Italian song that Finn seemed to know. That the song might’ve upset him in some way, leaving Hank none the wiser.

So, to pull Finn out of his funk, Hank had insisted—despite the snow falling without end for three days in a row—that they go down to Tilly’s to put a smile back on his face. Tilly’s chronically good mood and incredible stories usually had that effect on people, often the only thing getting Hank through those early days when he would just miss Eugene to the point of not being able to breathe.

The diner was buzzing as usual when they entered. Saturdays were always the busiest day of the week, aside from Sunday morning after church when the good people of Hayley’s needed to indulge in sugar, caffeine, and fat after Pastor Midlake’s sermon. Two guys Hank hadn’t seen before, but that he would bet were city folk from their attire, were deeply engrossed in conversation with Tilly, their faces coated with expressions of equal parts disbelief and mesmerized attention.

“And that’s the last anyone heard of him until the spring of ’59 when the creek thawed,” Tilly paused dramatically, her eyebrows lifted for extra effect. “There he lay in his Sunday’s best and Ginny Gordon finally found out why he never showed up for their date.”

“ Hombre. ” one of the guys, who looked to be late twenties, slammed the counter, causing a few regulars to look up from their pancakes and coffee.

“ Hombre , indeed,” Tilly repeated, pronouncing the h like a tourist in a bar in Panama City.

“I’m not sure about this, Hank,” Finn murmured next to him, backing a few steps toward the entrance. “It’s pretty crowded today, don’t you think?”

“Nah, c’mon,” Hank pulled at his right coat sleeve. “We don’t gotta stay long. Just for a cup and a chat. Looks like Til’s on fire today, new audience an’ all.” Hank nodded at the couple at the counter, both wearing thin black leather jackets and fashionably torn jeans. One was wearing what appeared to be a pair of purple leather ankle boots covered in rhinestones, which made a piss poor attempt at a winter boot, and the other guy, a pair of Chucks to make it worse. Jesus.

“Okay, Hank, but you owe me one,” Finn sighed, the pronounced dark half-moons under his eyes giving him a frail appearance. Hank’s arms were itching to wrap him up in a bear hold and squeeze him tightly against his chest. It was something that came over Hank more often these days—also in public—the urge to touch Finn. To reach for his hand instinctively, tangling their fingers together, or put his arm reassuringly—and slightly possessively, perhaps—around Finn’s shoulders. And today wasn’t any different. Finn had been having nightmares again the last couple of nights, wrestling the comforter next to Hank like it was some faceless enemy, calling out for Cara, repeating sorry, sorry, and please, whimpering against Hank’s chest when he would pull him against him, his entire being shivering, tears clinging to the desperate moths. It was pure torture, that’s what it was, to see Finn like this. In the morning over breakfast, he shied away from talking about his dreams when Hank prodded at him to talk about it, that look of sheer helplessness from those first days in Hayley’s back in his eyes.

“My oh my, if it ain’t my favorite boys,” Tilly cooed, and Hank couldn’t help wincing at the boy. He was a little old for that and his stupid brain automatically added a good in front of it, the sweet phantom scent of Finn’s climax entering his nostrils. “Get over here and meet my new friends, Lulu and Xavi. It was Xavi, right hon?” she smiled at the bigger of the two.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied politely, his deep, raspy voice nearly causing Tilly to swoon and melt into the floor behind the counter from the looks of it.

“Dontcha ma’am me, young man. It’s Tilly or Til if you wanna get frisky,” she said, winking fondly.

For Pete’s sake . He was starting to agree with Finn that this wasn’t the greatest of ideas, but it was too late now, Tilly already moving on with the introductions.

“Hank, Finn, meet Lulu and Xavi. They’re all the way from… Buffalo, New York, wasn’t it?”

“Sí, guapa,” purred the smaller guy, who was apparently Lulu—if that was even a name unless you were a cat—and sticking out his hand in Finn’s direction. A rapid succession of Spanish words followed as Finn took his hand, and the larger guy, Xavi, groaning lay off, hermano, an annoyed frown between his prominent brows.

“Lulu ésteban de Santiago at your service,” he smiled broadly, his lips shimmering with some pink ivory stuff, an equally pink headband holding a head of black curls in place. His slim hand wrapped around Finn’s sported long slender fingers, nails covered with a layer of bright green nail varnish. Hank hadn’t noticed that he’d wrapped an arm around Finn’s shoulders as soon as Lulu had reached for Finn’s hand, but the newcomer raised a black, carefully groomed eyebrow questioningly, his honey-brown eyes alert and playful. Releasing Finn’s hand, he pointed a manicured fingernail between them.

“Oh, I see, titi. He your Daddy ?” He smirked at Finn, tipping his chin at Hank. “Good for you, guapo. ” he winked knowingly.

“ Joder ,” the guy called Xavi groaned. “Will you knock it off? We’re not in Noches Habaneras, hermano . You can’t go around talking to strangers like that.”

“It’s okay,” Finn spoke softly, shifting on his feet next to Hank, leaning closer to his side, a little color returning to his pale cheeks. “We’re just friends,” he added. They were, weren’t they? Friends. Perhaps with a little extra. And still, the word felt hollow and insufficient. A mockery almost.

“See?” Lulu chirped. “He don’t mind.” He offered Xavi a knowing look. “Some of us don’t.”

“What was that?” Xavi leaned closer, his energetic sidekick shifting in his seat.

“Nothing,” Lulu whispered, his cheeks turning scarlet, his eyelids hooded. What the hell was going on?

“That’s what I thought,” Xavi warned.

“Aren’t they just adorable?” Tilly singsonged. “Take a seat, boys. Coffee? Breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Hank hummed, still not convinced about Tilly’s verdict that these two city folks were, in fact, adorable. More like headache-inducing. “Coffee, the usual for me. Finn, you want pancakes?” Finn nodded as he moved to sit down next to Xavi.

“Yeah. Thanks, Hank,” he nodded, looking from Xavi to Lulu and then back again.

“ Hank ,” Lulu repeated, pretending to shiver all over. “What a… sexy man’s man name, don’t you think, Xavi ?” There was a provocative lilt to his melodic voice when he pronounced his friend’s name. Xavi didn’t reply, just squeezed his hands tighter around his cup, and for a second Hank was afraid that he was going to crush it. Both backs of his hands and fingers were tattooed, intricate patterns and bright colors covering every patch of skin. Now, there was something you didn’t see every day in small-town Nebraska. “Sounds like hunk ,” Lulu giggled. “Hank the Hunk. Hank the—”

“Will you shut up for just five seconds?” Xavi gritted through his teeth, his jaw clenched tightly, but Lulu just stuck out his tongue, batting his dark curly lashes at him.

“So, you guys are from Buffalo?” Finn cut in. “You’re far away from home, then?”

“ Sí, guapo , we are indeed. We took a wrong turn, if you will.” Lulu smiled endearingly, continuing to bat his eyelashes seductively—too seductively for Hank’s taste—at Finn. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was clear as day that this Lulu person had a thing for Xavi, Hank would’ve felt jealous. But he wasn’t. Jealous. No, he never got jealous.

“More like several,” Xavi murmured. “Knowing you has been one long succession of wrong turns,” he groaned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“ Ah, papi, your life would be boring without me. Just admit it. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be stuck to that brown corduroy couch playing Fortnite with Manu, eating Skittles for breakfast.” He pursed his lips teasingly, before leaning in, smacking a loud kiss to Xavi’s cheek, murmuring something against his ear. The bigger guy blushed, then looked like he was about to throw Lulu over his shoulder and burst across the room and out the door.

Ready for a change of subject before things escalated in a way that was too much for a Saturday morning in rural America, Hank cleared his throat.

“So, where are you folks headed?”

“OMG, did you hear that?!” Lulu squealed, poking his elbow against Xavi’s, nearly causing the bigger guy to spill his coffee down the front of his hoodie. “He called us folks, hermano .”

“I heard,” Xavi groaned, brushing at his eyebrows. Making eye contact with Hank, he smiled apologetically. “Portland. We’re headed for Portland.” Holding up his hand in a wait gesture, he continued, “And yes, before you ask, that’s one hell of a wrong turn. But that’s what happens when someone keeps talking over the GPS and can’t read signs for shit.”

“Portland, Oregon?” Finn asked, his eyes indecipherable, a slight tremor to his voice that Hank was sure no one else noticed.

“Sí, titi,” Lulu blinked in rapid succession, bouncing in his seat. “I’m doing a Christmas cabaret. In Portland. I’m an actor ,” he pursed his lips, leaning lazily against Xavi like some film noir diva. Grabbing the bigger guy’s beefy upper arm, squeezing it tightly, he sighed, “Xavi is my bodyguard.”

“I am not your bodyguard,” Xavi spat, closing his eyes briefly, mumbling something that sounded like la madre and something else.

“’Course you are, muchacho. ” Turning towards Finn, whispering conspiratorially behind his hand, he added, “he sooo is my body guard, if you know what I mean, titi.”

“A Christmas cabaret?” Tilly beamed, clasping her hands together in front of her apron-covered chest. “My, that’s so very exciting. What’s it about?”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Xavi groaned, burying his face in his hands. Lulu, on the other hand, nearly catapulted out of his seat, licking his lips exaggeratedly before starting.

“Well, it’s at the Triangle Productions! In Portland.” He added a ta-da gesture with his hands as if they were supposed to know the place. “Do you know the place? It’s a queer theater. One of the most renowned in the US. And my agent, Lenny, found this part for me and it was just in time because I needed to get the fuck out of B-town, if you know what I mean? Old Madam Lulu here got herself a stalker and no, not the hot, brooding type who wants to kidnap you and secretly turn you into his house pet or sex slave or both, but the more I-live-in-my-parents’-basement-and-have-plans-to-overthrow-the-government-and-start-my-own-tribe kinda stalker. Yeah, not good. So, obviously , I jumped at the opportunity, and your girl here doesn’t go anywhere without her bodyguard these days. So, here we are!” Taking a deep breath, he reached for his orange juice, sucking loudly on the straw.

“What’s the play about?” Finn asked, looking somewhat shell-shocked but also mesmerized by the colorful stranger who resembled an exotic bird that had just walked into a chicken coop in Midwestern USA.

“Oh shit,” Xavi moaned, tipping his head back, closing his eyes.

“It’s called Dickie and his Magic Peen, a Kinky Christmas Cabaret in Sex Acts,” Lulu beamed, his eyes twinkling like a thousand Christmas lights.

“His magic peen?” Tilly repeated, a few regulars starting to gather around the counter, Lulu really starting to draw a crowd by now.

“Yes!” Lulu yelled. “I’m the peen. When you rub me, the magic happens,” he wiggled on his barstool, batting his long, black eyelashes suggestively.

“ Joder,” Xavi sighed.

“ Qué ?” Lulu looked at his so-called bodyguard questioningly. “You, of all people, should know that it’s true, titi.”

“Now, that just sounds wonderful. Doesn’t it sound wonderful, Hank?” Tilly smiled broadly. “Christmas is just such a magical time, dontcha think?”

“Right,” Hank offered, looking around at the diner, people’s mouths slightly agape, eyes wide, all around. “But you can’t go today,” he added.

“Why not?” Xavi asked, looking like he was one coffee away from getting the hell outta Dodge, possibly leaving his manic sidekick behind.

“There’s a storm comin’,” Tilly threw in. “A real bad one, they say. Already hit South Dakota this mornin’. Roads are closed. Electricity is out in some counties.”

“Oh, shit,” Lulu looked alarmed. Then he blushed, nibbling at his bottom lip. “Isn’t this just like in the movies, papi ?” He blinked at Xavi, who looked ready to make a run for it right this minute—come hell, high water, or blizzard. “You and me, small town motel. Forced proximity due to force majeure . Best friends-to-lovers. Sexy banter…” Lulu looked like he was about to swoon right off his chair, his eyes starting to glaze over. “Just one bed!” he gasped, fanning himself with both hands.

“Yeah, there’ll be none of that,” Xavi countered. Turning towards Tilly, he attempted a serious expression, Lulu pouting next to him. “How long’s it supposed to last? The blizzard.”

“Well, they say around 24 hours, but you never know. One time back in ’74—”

“Now, Til. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hank interrupted. “I’m sure it’ll clear up by tomorrow at the latest. But it might take them a day or two to clear the roads. Especially the smaller back roads.” He looked at Finn, who had grown eerily quiet after the conversation had landed on Oregon, a wistful look in his eyes. “It depends on the type of wheels you have, of course,” he continued. “I mean, road conditions an’ all.” A deep sigh left Xavi as he brushed at his beard.

“FIAT 500,” he whispered.

“Say what now?” Hank looked at the guy in sheer disbelief.

“Yes,” Lulu repeated. “A FIAT 500. Tallulah took the van with her prizewinning poodles, so we had to take the FIAT.”

“Why didn’t you boys just fly?” Tilly asked, sweeping the counter with a cloth.

“Because my bestie is afraid of flying,” Lulu patted Xavi’s arm reassuringly. “It’s superstición ,” he added solemnly.

“What now?” Hank felt a headache building, all hope of enjoying a somewhat quiet breakfast with Finn evaporating.

“You know, some witch cast a spell on Xavi’s abuelita back in Santa Domingo.”

“You don’t say!” Tilly gasped, eyes wide open.

“It’s true!” Lulu nodded.

“But what does that have to do with flying?”

“Don’t ask…” Xavi groaned. “A story for another day.”

“ Sí, hermana. ” Lulu winked at Tilly. “ Ma?ana, I tell you.” Tilly looked positively glowing at the upgrade from ma’am to hermana , her orange-colored lips mouthing the word a couple of times, clearly pronouncing the h . Then, as if it finally dawned on her, Tilly looked at Finn.

“Finn here is from Oregon, aren’t you, hon?” Nodding tentatively, Finn played with his napkin.

“Yeah. Florence. By the coast,” he murmured.

“I thought Florence was in France,” Lulu chirped.

“Italy,” Xavi corrected. “But no, different continent.”

“Oh. Bummer. Always wanted to go to France. Italy, too,” Lulu continued unfazed, not seeming to notice that both Hank and Finn had sobered and gotten quiet. Finn poked at his pancakes, the syrup looking like a sad pool of dirty, melted snow by now.

“Maybe we can go one day,” Xavi mumbled, his voice a tad softer than before, a fond smile curling across his lips.

“Yeah?” Lulu spoke, voice equally soft, something passing between them that only they knew the language for. “You’d do that? But you’d have to fly.”

“For you. For you, anything.”

“Awww, you do love me, hermano .”

“Don’t push it.”

What happened next happened so fast that Hank had to do a mental debriefing later to make sure that it had, in fact, happened, and that it wasn’t just some strange detour that his mind had taken.

“You should go with them then,” Tilly smiled fondly at Finn. “Once the storm passes. You’ll make it home to your people just in time for the holidays, hon. Won’t that be nice?” The feeling that washed over Hank at the simple logic of Tilly’s words felt like being hit by a baseball bat square in the face while someone kneed you in the balls. Not that either had ever happened to Hank, but he assumed it must feel like that. All air was sucked out of his lungs in an instant as he looked at Finn next to him.

“Uhm… yeah… maybe,” Finn mumbled, his eyes searching Hank’s frantically.

“Yes! You should totally come!” Lulu squealed. “Road trip, baby!”

“Don’t…” Xavi spoke, shaking his head. Then, looking at Finn, he added, “No problem, hermano . There’s room for one more, believe it or not.”

“Hank?” Finn asked, his eyes flickering back and forth between Hank’s, uncertainty painted across his beautiful face that Hank had kissed repeatedly this morning, humming beautiful boy against Finn’s damp skin.

“Yeah,” Hank heard himself replying through a daze, his eyes dropping to his plate as he continued to speak the stupidest words ever spoken by a man. “You should do that, Finn. No need waiting. Go home for Christmas.”

He registered Finn nodding next to him, even heard him swallow—the most pitiful sound in the world at that moment.

“Okay,” Finn breathed, his voice hesitant and almost inaudible. “If you think so, Hank, I guess I could do that. No need to wait any longer, I guess.” He could feel the cold in the room as if someone had cracked a window, the chill spreading down his spine. Without moving, he felt Finn pulling away from him. It was the strangest thing, really, because in that moment, it occurred to Hank that he’d just made a big mistake. Of epic proportions, really, but somehow—because that was the kind of idiot he apparently was—he just managed to nod and say yes, please , when Tilly asked if he wanted a refill. Yes, please. That was, apparently, the best he could do. Funny how your mouth could speak one thing while your heart screamed something else.

“Great!” Lulu slammed his hands loudly against the counter. “Now, where’s the motel, and please tell me, it’s not called Bates because a stalker is one thing, but a psycho with mommy issues… I’ll pass on that.”