Chapter 5

(Lux)

Gourmet leftovers and vinyl inspiration

River had made chicken and waffles for breakfast, using the leftover chicken strips from last night’s meal. It was like nothing I’d ever had before. The combination of savory and sweet blended beautifully. He used real maple syrup too, infused with vanilla and butter, all of which highlighted the spicy seasonings that had been in the crispy chicken strip batter. I was so damned inspired; I made a mental note to break out the mini-waffle maker I’d gotten for Christmas last year. A gift from Frida, who’d fallen in love with the one she’d found that made waffles in the shake of cat faces. I’d only used mine once, and not for anything this delicious. Now, I was going to start making sandwich sized ones, with two waffles instead of buns and homemade chicken strips in the middle. The thought of something new to add to my oftentimes dull morning meals was another reason in a long list forming in my mind of all the reasons I was thrilled to have met River.

The way our date had morphed into a weekend of fun and relaxation had happened so naturally that I could scarcely wait to see what he had in store for us next. He wouldn’t let me see until he called me out to the living room, so at the moment, I was seated in his bedroom, staring at the vision boards on his walls. Each was a different take on notable characters, all twisted and morphed until they were barely recognizable. Such precise details, right down to the makeup and costume pieces. There were prototypes on the shelves too, polymer clay, unless I missed my guess. It gave me a new appreciation for the pieces I’d seen inside the shop. When I’d first walked through the door, I’d assumed they were all standard, factory pieces intended for low-cost sales. Then I’d taken a closer look and been astonished at the elaborate tentacles wrapped around the bong beside the door. I got it now. He’d made all of them. He wasn’t just running the place. He’d done what I’d always dreamed of doing. He had a gallery, even if he didn’t call it that, and he had his works on display for anyone to drop in, see and purchase anytime they saw fit.

That was a lot to accomplish for a guy his age, but then there didn’t strike me as being anything typical about River. Something told me he had turned standing out into an artform, and I, for one, couldn’t wait to discover the unique quirks that made up the man I’d been immediately attracted to.

Almost as if I’d summoned him, River appeared in the doorway with beautiful smile and floppy pink hair hanging in his eyes.

“It’s ready,” he declared, grinning as he backed up.

The moment I stepped out of the room he grabbed my hand and skipped up the hall to a room that was dark save for two lamps and those brilliant fairy lights. They were shining golden yellow now, which made me wonder how many other color sequences they offered and where River had found ones that were so cool.

Not at the dollar store where I tended to get mine, that was for sure, but then mine were the kind you had to keep batteries around for, which I was notorious for forgetting even when the word was scrawled across the top of my grocery list in bold letters.

Of course, my excuse last time had been an inability to remember what size and not wanting to grab the wrong ones and have them sitting around going bad in a drawer. I’d thrown out two packs before I’d moved, each being more than five years out of date and a few with that white, foamy powder clinging to the base end, proof positive that they’d gone bad. I still didn’t own anything that took those voltages either, which left me wondering what the hell I’d been thinking when I’d bought the damned things.

Two wide, fluffy pallets lay on the floor, trays laden with snacks and drinks beside them. What looked to be Creature from the Black Lagoon was on the television, volume muted while what I was certain was The Grateful Dead , poured from the record player on the corner. I’d never heard them like that before, rough, the tones a little muted, which gave the music a low, rolling, mellow vibe.

“Could you imagine laying in a field, listening to them play live up on a stage?” River asked as I unpacked the art supplies I always kept in my bag. River had clearly factored on me having them, maybe because h e never went anywhere without his . Hell, I didn’t know an artist, or any creative person, who left home without a notebook, a pen, and their phone in case they needed to take pictures or capture some bit of inspiration on video.

“No, but I wish I could,” I admitted. “My grandparents told all kinds of stories about outdoor concerts and festivals with music playing late into the night. The only events I’ve ever been to have been at indoor venues. The two don’t even compare.”

“Same,” River declared. “I’ve never been to anything outdoors except the state fair and it was hella crowded, but it seemed like everything in the world I could ever want to see, or taste was there. We sampled everything. Like, everything! Including deep-fried pop tarts, deep-fried moon pies, and deep-fried brownies.”

Whistling, I paused setting up my space to glance over at him. “That is a whole lot of fried.”

‘Yeah, my tummy did not appreciate some of those concoctions,” River admitted absently rubbing it like some phantom ache had been triggered by the memory. “I spent the next week eating nothing but soup and biscuits.”

Laughing, I cocked my head so I could study him as he got comfortable, wondering if I should read anything into the fact that he’d said tummy, instead of stomach or even belly. With his playful personality it wouldn’t shock me if there was more behind it, so I’d be paying attention to see if he let slip any more clues.

“What else did you try?” I asked as I took up my pencil and held it poised over the page, starting to let my mind drift in the tranquil space he’d created for us.

“Umm, deep-fried Kool-Aid, Spaghetti and meatballs ice cream…”

“Okay, okay, okay, hold on, back it up to the deep-fried Kool-Aid. What in the name of all that’s unholy is that?”

“Picture a donut hole but made with Kool-Aid.”

“Who the fuck came up with that?” I squeaked, having never heard of anything of the sort.

“I wish I knew. They were delicious. Haven and I used to make our own, but they never turned out quite as good as the ones from the fair,” River explained. “Ours were still really tasty though.”

“That sounds interesting, I’d try it,” I admitted. “Not sure about the spaghetti ice cream though.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning that cheeky, teasing grin of his. “It’s not real spaghetti, just ice cream sent through a press to look like noodles, served with strawberry toppings and warm balls of chocolate that oozed when I cracked them open. They topped it with powdered white chocolate too, designed to look like parmesan cheese.”

“Okay, I reverse my previous statement,” I admitted. “I’d be all over that in a heartbeat.”

“It was an awesome palate cleanser, right before chocolate covered bugs and scorpion pops.”

Now I was wary again and slightly grossed out while hoping it was just another case of the name being off-putting and not the actual concoction. “What, pray tell, is a scorpion pop?”

“A lollipop with a little scorpion inside. They make them with crickets and tequila worms too.”

I gagged, while he grinned and started sketching out what looked like a scorpion’s tail, the little shit.

“We tried snake kebabs too,” he declared while I was still struggling to unscrunch my face. “They really do taste like chicken, especially when you dunk them in different sauces. I really liked those, and the peanut butter and jelly shakes we got to wash them down with.”

“Until this moment I considered myself to be an adventurous person,” I admitted. “Now, I’ll be happy to accept the label of plain old vanilla and take a hard pass on putting anything that used to sting, slither or scurry around on six legs in my mouth.”

He giggled at that, and it seemed like what I said inspired him, because he soon bent over his page, hand flying as he began to draw.

“Kinda depressing, about the vanilla part,” he murmured.

I wondered if he’d meant for me to hear that, but I was glad I had. I might be vanilla when it came to the thought of eating bugs, but in the ways that mattered, like what I got up to in the bedroom, I was anything but. Guess I’d have to impress that point upon him the next time I got him naked and squirming in my arms.

It took me longer to start filling my own sheet of paper. I was inspired by the merry-go-round, the green LED lit cactus-shaped jungle gym on the playground, and the way we’d so lazily and innocently spun while we’d eaten. Growing up, we’d all known what could happen if you got flung off one or failed to hop on correctly after you’d been pushing. The worst playground accidents I’d ever seen have been from the merry-go-round, which was why many play spaces had removed them and replaced them with safer pieces of equipment.

Now I took my cues from the creature feature and the conversation we’d had, sketching it with the bars coming alive and reaching out in the form of tentacles, snatching one rider up and holding them poised in the air, like they were being shaken. I sketched in another flying through the air after being thrown. At the center I created a great, gaping maw with rows of razor-sharp teeth, one rider poised just over the mouth, about to be devoured.

Gruesome with a hint of comedy. I didn’t go for realism but rather the classic severities skater style, complete with the darker and somewhat muted color tones. I worked on making it slick and creepy, enjoying the occasional humming coming from River as he drew in tune with the song.

We didn’t have to talk and that was perfect. I hadn’t wanted to play twenty-questions with him and had been pleased that we’d avoided that bit of cliché. What I’d hoped for was exactly what we were doing now, hanging out and spending time together. Nothing forced or drowned out by the presence of too many voices around us.

I glanced over and caught him taking a break to nibble on some of the cheese he’d assembled on the platter near his hand. I’d almost forgotten he’d snacks out and glanced over at my tray, selecting a chocolate covered almond and popping it in my mouth.

He’d actually assembled charcuterie boards for each of us, with several sauces, tomato basil bruschetta, and even a bruschetta topped with pesto and shrimp.

Divine.

I reached over and caressed his back while I savored that first bite and was rewarded with a brilliant grin as he moved his hand and gave me a glimpse of what he’d been working on.

Me.

Sort of.

It was me laying there with a small koala clinging to my back, half dangling over my shoulder as we drew together. I could easily picture him as the koala, and loved that he’d drawn me so carefree, one leg in the air and wait a minute, was that a kitten perched on my rear? I hadn’t seen a kitten running around here.

Of course that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. My best friend’s cat was so shy she didn’t come out if there was a stranger in the house. River winked, then right before my eyes sketched in a creature reaching out from the pages like it wanted to pull me in. The style he drew was more creepy-cute than creepy and vicious and yet they meshed. I found himself looking forward to the day when we got to see what we could create together.

I caught River’s eye again, then the pink haired man winked and stretched his arm out, blocking my view of the paper again, so I turned my attention back to my own work and went back to layering in the colors.

The only times he moved were to load another record, and yet it never distracted me to have different movies playing when I looked up, but no sound to follow along with. I knew each story that played out, they were ones I’d binged often. For him to have a playlist of them meant he watched them a lot too. Another thing in common.

I didn’t have a lot of friends, mainly just Frida and most of the time we spent together was just like this. It felt the same with River, but different too, like this connection forming between us could run deeper, if we just gave it time to develop fully.

With a smile I was reminded that I only had three short days to teach in this upcoming week before the children started their vacation. With any luck and a whole lot of charm, I planned to wake up on that forth morning here, even if it meant spending the bulk of the day downstairs in his shop.

It might actually be fun, sitting in a corner sketching and watching him work. I could practically see a whole series of images emerging, all graffiti style with characters depicting parodies of who they really were, or exaggerations, depending on who dropped in. It could prove to be the inspiration I needed to start the new series I’d been promising my subscribers for months. If I could get a few stills up to show character development, it might keep the trickle of emails I’d been receiving inquiring about when the next strip would be out from becoming a deluge.

For the first time since I’d pictured how my vacation would go, the images weren’t filled with simi-unpacked boxes with packing peanuts spilled out everywhere. He paused to nibble, so I caressed his back again, wanting him to know with every deed and word, just how much I appreciated this time I got to spend with him.

“I was thinking of making surf and turf tonight, with a salad on the side,” River said as I waltzed my fingertips up his spine. “There will be more than enough, if you wanna stay and have supper with me.”

“Only if you let me run out and grab something to make for dessert and maybe a nightcap, if you don’t mind me invading your space for another night.”

“It’s not an invasion if you’re invited,” he offered, grinning over at me as he settled back down, after putting on The Rolling Stones.

Ahh, I got it. Dinner was fishing, a way to see if I had someplace to be. That way if I said no , I was only turning down a meal, not the opportunity to spend the rest of the day with him. Protecting himself in his own little way was something I could appreciate. I just hoped my answer assured him that I was eager to extend the time we got to spend together, though a part of me wondered how he’d managed to snag a whole day off when he’d told me they were supposed to be open from noon to four.

“Hey, you ran out of Whammy Bears,” a voice said before the door had even finished creaking open. “You got anymore in the storage room, or will I be wasting my time looking?”

“You could have texted the question, you know,” River grumbled as I took in the sight of a man a little taller and broader than him, though they still bore a great deal of resemblance to each other, especially around the eyes.

“Could have, but didn’t, now do you got any or not?”

“Check the third shelf on the left and tell Mrs. Lacey that they are launching a new flavor next month, peach, and I’ve already put an order in for her. If she’d like any other flavors, just jot them down in the notebook and I’ll see to them tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, but I’m still raiding the kitchen for food.”

“Ahh, so that’s what you really came up here for.”

“I couldn’t help it, all those smells started drifting downstairs and now my stomach is trying to devour itself.”

“Uh-huh, sure, I call bullshit ‘cause I know your Daddy didn’t let you out of the house without making you lunch first,” River shot back while my brain screamed bingo . I no longer had to wonder if he knew anything about the world of Daddies and littles, not when he was related to a little and referenced the dynamic without hesitation. He cut me a look too, like he was waiting to see what my reaction would be to what I’d heard. I gave him a smile and a nod of reassurance as his brother headed to the kitchen, like River hadn’t already called him out about having food.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not curious to try what you made,” the guy Lux was sure was Haven, responded back.

“And by curious, you mean nosy,” River added. “Fine, raid away, but at least come say hi to Lux first so he knows you have some home training.”

“I resent the implication that I don’t,” Haven replied, appearing in the doorway with a carton in one hand and a piece of bruschetta half sticking out of his mouth.

“My point exactly,” River grumbled as he gestured towards his brother. “Lux, this is Haven. Never leave leftovers out when he’s around or you’ll find yourself starving later.”

“I’ll remember that,” I muttered as I waved to him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Haven replied.

“Great, now that you’ve been introduced, you can git and go tell Meadow what he looks like since I know she put you up to this.”

He huffed and fought back a grin, not that he was able to conceal it completely. “Hey, it was the food that lured us, not your guest.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” River declared, pointing a pencil at him. “In fact, you can tell yourself that all the way back to the shop where you left Mrs. Lacey waiting.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about her,” Haven replied, whirling and heading, not for the door, but back to the kitchen to finish stealing snacks before he headed downstairs. Chuckling, I shook my head as River tried to hold back a grin, only to burst out laughing when Haven finally slammed back out again.

“Is it like that all the time?” I asked once his brother had left.

“Yup,” River said, turning the full force of his smile on me. “Still wanna stick around for the rest of the night?”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”