Chapter Fifteen

Trent

A fter the concert, we’d gone our separate ways, but we’d made plans to meet at Randy’s after work during the week. I’d drive home like a bat out of hell, shower and run to the diner where we had food and walked around the city. Not every corner of Boston was new to me as I’d visited it with my parents and on a school trip to the Museum of Science. But the places Charlie showed me were unique enough for me to never find it, even if I spent years in Boston. The underground music store had vinyls my mom listened to, and I’d found an ABBA vinyl record in great shape for her birthday a few months away.

Today, Charlie got another leather jacket in a vintage clothes store we raided, and I scored a Chicago Bulls jersey with a big fat 23 on it. Being a Celtics fan didn’t mean I couldn’t love Jordan, the GOAT.

“Is this where you buy concert clothes?” I asked when we walked out with bags full of unique finds. On the days I met Charlie straight after work, he’d wear a black button down and jeans, a more toned-down version of his casual punk rocker style. What I loved the most was that he found a way to stay true to himself whenever he went. Well, and the fact that, if he wore jeans, I could see the outline of his packer and it would remind me of the thorough railing he could give me with his cock. Maybe I’d even get to choose which one.

“Mostly. I buy new plain threads and everyday wear at regular stores, but even when retro fashion returns, the quality is not the same. Most of the vintage clothes are made from sturdier fabrics and stitched better. I learned that after my dad gave me his favorite old jeans he’d kept for two decades when he was a teenager. I still wear them and they’re in great shape.” He patted his denim-clad thigh. “The used leather can be treated and at times is better than new because it’s already broken and has a history. I’ll never know it but I can feel it when I put it on. I’ve never fit into boxes, so I’ll stick to my weird mix of old and new fashion.”

“I think it’s bad-ass. You’ve always had a sense of style, but now.” I whistled low, giving him my dimpled smile.

He bumped me with his hip. “Flattery or not, I’m not taking that cage off today. Unless you’re asking for a makeover.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I could pull off a rockstar no matter how hard I tried. Besides, I like my comfy clothes. And the cage keeps me sane.”

“Fair. You’d pull off anything you set your mind on, I’m certain of that.”

Charlie had such a big personality, interests and unique style, but he was not pushing any of it on me. He invited me to the concert, but never tried to convince me to listen to his favorite bands, look, or behave differently when we were together. I was myself around him and as much as we differed; he didn’t seem to mind. Whenever he wore a band t-shirt, I’d ask him what it was and to play me their music. I loved how passionately he spoke of the genre, as well as the message the songs had. Still, I liked his own songs he played me the most. Maybe I was biased, but who cared?

Charlie pushed the door to Randy’s open, and I followed him, inhaling the scent of coffee and food that soaked through clothes if you sat there for more than a minute.

The welcoming fifties vibe with white and light blue checkerboard floor and vinyl seating brought memories of finding my Charlie here after so many years apart.

Henry, a full-time server, sashayed to a table in our field of vision and noticed us. He pointed his long nail at our booth, then gave us a thumbs up, familiar with mine and Charlie’s favorite spot.

We sat next to each other, expecting Sabrina and Trixie to join us at any moment. Then a thought hit me.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah.” Charlie waved to Henry, who was on his way to us.

“Did I forget, or have you not told me what the name of your band was?”

Charlie turned to me and bit his lip.

“What can I get you, lovebirds?” Henry tapped his nails on the table, drawing our attention. “The usual?”

“Coffee for now and four waters.” Charlie set the menu with specials aside with a smirk I couldn’t decipher. “We’re waiting for the rest of our party. Thanks, Henry.”

“No problem, sweetie.” He clicked his high heels and walked like a runway model to the next table.

“You didn’t forget the name of the band. I haven’t told you.” Charlie half-turned to me and wrapped his arms around his middle.

I propped my chin on my hand and poked Charlie’s thigh with the other. “What is it then?”

Charlie pursed his lips. “ 77 Rotary Road .”

I frowned. “But it’s—”

“Yeah. Some people interpret the 77 as punk, which is exactly why I thought that would fly as a name.” He repositioned in his seat. “I didn’t tell you not to make it weird, but that’s the address where I realized I was trans and gay.”

“My house?” My bottom lip trembled as a wave of memories and warmth connected with them overwhelmed me.

“I’m sorry if that’s creepy.” Charlie reached out but snatched his hand away.

“No, I’m so honored. Charlie…” I scooped him up into my arms and held him tight as the meaning of his words sunk in. The lump in my throat refused to disappear as the squeeze in my chest got tighter. If I could, I would never let go of him. I’d wake up next to him every morning and go to bed with him every night. I’d make him coffee, and he’d kiss me. We’d snuggle together and share our hopes and dreams until we both helped each other reach them.

As I inhaled the scent of Charlie’s hair, my brain cemented what my heart already knew.

I was in love with Charlie.

For quite a while.

“Trent, my Cupcake.” Charlie kissed my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, then my lips. “Thank you for being you.”

I nuzzled his neck. “I could say the same.”

A clank on the table startled me, and I sat upright, pushing Charlie to do the same.

“No fornicating at the booth,” Henry said, pouring coffee from a pitcher into the mugs he’d so discreetly put. “It’s not good for the food we serve here.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Henry. We’ll remember that.”

I hid my smile behind the mug and took a sip, scalding my tongue. “So now that the secret is out, what are the band’s plans?”

Charlie took a pick out of his pocket and twirled it in his fingers. “We have a rehearsal on Friday before the small gig on Saturday. Sabrina is working magic on the band’s social media to get the word out. You’re invited to come, of course.”

I clinked my mug to Charlie’s like it was some fancy whiskey. “I’d love to. But I meant in the long run. What future do you want for the band?”

Charlie’s eyes lit up whenever I mentioned playing, like now. “We’re so small, I try to not dream too big. It’s hard to score a gig without an agent or a record deal, but even harder to get them if we’re nobodies. So it’s a Catch 22.” He shrugged, downplaying the kick-ass music as he always did. “Thanks to the new gigs, we can see what resonates with the audience the most, so we can pick songs for the demo we’ll be recording next month. I have too many songs to pick from, so playing live helps us pick the ones worth getting on the album.”

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the studio,” I said in a dreamy voice.

“We pay by the hour and I didn’t tell them how many members we have. I’d love for you to be there. If you want, of course. But it might be boring.”

“Yes! I’ll carry your equipment!” I clapped my hands so loud, the couple in the next booth turned around.

Charlie chuckled. “You don’t have to, but I’ll get you in for sure.”

“Awesome. I can’t wait.” I gulped my coffee, taking a moment to admire Charlie’s profile as he did the same. He was such a charismatic leader on stage that, coupled with his talent, I believed the band could be bigger than either of them can imagine. “If you let yourself dream big, what would it look like? What would be the band’s journey?”

Charlie set his mug aside and leaned back. “Once we have the new demo, we’ll be sending it to agents and record labels. I’d love for us to play at a festival or two locally, so more people would get a chance to hear us. Getting a spot on Tough Luck fest would be great, but playing even the small stage at Riot Fest in Chicago would put us in front of a huge audience. Going on a tour with someone in our genre would be the next big dream. When I was little, I’d imagine standing on a huge stage when a crowd sang along with me the words I wrote myself, to the music I helped create.”

“That’s beautiful. I believe you can accomplish anything you set your mind on.” Fiddling with my mug, I held it in both hands. “I’m not just saying that because you’re… we’re… you know. But I think you’re that talented.”

Charlie stroked my cheek, his expression going from cynical to soft. “Thank you, Cupcake.

“What about your career as a journalist?”

Charlie snorted. “What career? I studied journalism for the love of writing. Song lyrics are my outlet of choice. I found writing articles much more difficult as they were not the outpour of my artistic soul. I doubt I could be content working for a paper for the rest of my life, so I have to try with the band and see if I could be happy playing and nurturing a community. We’re in a shit place now as society, and punk has always been about rebellion and fighting for a better future. Being nice and creating safe spaces is the punk-est thing you can do right now. If those of us who feel lost, misunderstood, or confused could find a community? Well, then we could build a home, a support system so people from all walks of life could come to concerts and feel understood and safe and simply be themselves. That’s my biggest dream. Touring with bands who seek to accomplish a similar goal of uniting people in music again.”

“That’s beautiful.” I snatched a napkin from the holder to wipe the tears off my cheeks. If I could help Charlie and his band, I’d do anything. But I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Your support means so much to me, Cupcake.” He drew me in for a hug.

“What did you do to Trent, Charlie?” Sabrina’s voice boomed next to us, startling me.

“Tortured him with my dreams about the band.” Charlie kissed my cheek and pulled away.

“Oh, the misery.” Trixie threw a hand over her forehead, then slid into the booth, opposite Charlie and me. “What are we eating?” She picked up the menu we all knew by heart.

Henry sashayed to our booth in heels so high, I was scared for his ankles. His calves looked like he never skipped a leg day though. Or was that from walking in heels?

“What can I get for my rocker party today?” He cocked his hip and batted his lashes at all of us. Men wouldn’t usually flirt with me. Either my vibe leveled up or my company put me on queer radar. I smiled in return.

Charlie put a hand high over my thigh and squeezed, sending sparks of desire in me. Henry grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Charlie’s clear statement. That touch was as powerful a claim on me as the cock cage under my pants.

“I’ll take Chizz Loaded Fries,” Trixie said without a look at the menu.

“Can I have the chocolate shake with sprinkles, please?” Sabrina chirped, taking her delicate pink scarf off her shoulders.

Analyzing the protein and veggies in my meals today, I deserved a treat. “I’ll have dino pancakes with extra sauce.”

“Do you still have the dessert specials?” Charlie handed the smaller menu

“Yup.”

“I’ll have a strawberry glazed donut. I like eating those lately.”

As luck would have it, I had just taken a sip of water and it spurted out of my nose. I coughed, giving Charlie a death glare. He merely patted my back and smirked at me in an evil way that told me the baked donut would not be the only one getting some action tonight.

Sabrina exchanged glances with Trixie, who rolled her eyes. They were onto us. Until now I didn’t realize how out and proud I’ve been acting around them, and in turn, they did the same around me—from Trixie’s confession about great sex with her girlfriend, to Sabrina mentioning her estrogen injections the other day. Last year, if someone even suggested I was taking a dick up the ass, I’d be probably offended. Now? I’d tell them that Charlie’s assortment of dicks were among the best things that ever happened to me. Second to Charlie himself.

“Guys, I hope it’s okay I invited Trent to the studio with us,” Charlie said.

“As long as you don’t Yoko Ono us, you’ll be fine.” Trixie narrowed her eyes at Trent, then grinned. “Kidding.”

“I what?” What was she talking about?

“Nah, he’s my emotional support Cupcake.” Charlie half-hugged me and I kissed his cheek.

“Why are you calling him cupcake?” Sabrina asked, fluffing her yellow flowery dress.

“It’s a childhood nickname.” Charlie elbowed me. “You tell them, Trent.”

My mind propelled me years back as I gathered my thoughts. “In second grade, we were supposed to do a DIY project with a parent and bring it to school. Other boys did some stuff from wood like bird feeders or mail boxes. I brought a batch of cupcakes I made with my mom. So I became the Cupcake Boy since then.” I remembered the confusion at teachers’ and kids’ amusement with my beautiful cupcakes. Some of my classmates didn’t bring anything that day, and my mom spent the entire Sunday baking with me, so I was lucky to have that. “It bothered me at first, but then it turned into a nickname I embraced. Over time, it fizzled out. Now, it’s not about the name, but how Charlie says it that I like the most.”

“Come here.” Charlie said and kissed me briefly on the lips.

If I could, I’d climb on his lap, but I liked his legs not broken, so I snuggled into his much smaller body instead.

“That’s so tragically adorable.” Sabrina squished her own cheeks.

“You guys are so cute I threw up in my mouth a bit.” Trixie took a sip of water.

“Oh yeah? And how’s the little minx you’ve been dating and hiding from us?” Charlie challenged her friend without letting go of me.

“Hardly hiding. You’ll meet her soon.” Trixie accepted her plate from Henry and thanked him.

The server distributed our food and ran back to greet the new faces coming with the afternoon rush.

“So it’s serious.” Sabrina leaned back, swirling a straw in her shake.

Trixie’s expression turned soft as if she drifted off to la la land. Well shit, she was gone for that girl for real. “We’re still figuring it out, but—

“But you’ve rented the U-Haul already.” Sabrina snickered.

“Fuck you.” Trixie punched her arm playfully. “Not yet. But I’m ready. I’ll be moving closer to work soon anyway, so might as well look at apartments with Cindy.”

“And leaving me all alone after seven years.” Charlie shook his head.

Sabrina and Trixie looked at me, then got busy with their food.

Charlie met my gaze as he licked the pink glazing off his donut.

My cheeks warmed up. Did I miss something?

“How’s the drama at work, Sabrina?” Charlie asked.

“I’m pretty sure Tom is the one stealing my pudding. I’m this close to nutting in it, knowing the perpetrator would eat it.”

“Nasty” Trixie grimaced. “I guess there are perks to keeping a dick after transitioning huh?”

“You can say that.” Sabrina grinned. “Oh, I’ve been to the gym on the other side of the city. It’s decent, but so far, I won’t go there again unless I’m desperate.” Trixie fiddled with the hem of her dress. “The one next to my apartment served as a last resort when I was in dire need to keep in shape right after gender affirming surgeries but I wasn’t very comfortable there.”

“I wish we had something closer to here.” Trixie bit into a fry from her plate.

“Same.” I swallowed a chunk of my pancake. “They let me drive the van at work. So I’ve been hauling two-by-fours to and from the construction site. Now they’re doing some interior stuff, so I went with the boss to get formica and visit the dude from marble to arrange for countertops measurements.” I sighed. “That kind of workout is chaotic and I’m having trouble balancing it at home.”

“I told him he should open his own gym,” Charlie said, bringing the whole table to look at me.

“I’m all for you opening one. Whatcha need from me? Just let me know. These guns need a workout.” Trixie flexed her impressive bicep.

“I know a spot if you’re really interested.” Sabrina perked up. “A spa closed last month, and it’s up for rent. It’s only two blocks away. Wanna go check it out?”

“Now?” After talking to Charlie, I have been seriously considering the gym idea, but was I ready?

“What do you think, Cupcake?” Charlie stroked my arm. “We can take a look and leave. No pressure.”

“Yeah. Better to know what’s out there.” To prove to myself I was in over my head.

“Cool. I can arrange the viewing on their website.” Sabrina tapped her phone. “I helped my mom open a nail salon a few months ago, so I have a vague idea how it all works. Oh, they have a spot available in half an hour! Someone must have canceled.”

Whoa, it was all happening so fast. My stomach churned.

Charlie took my hand and put it on his lap, keeping it there with his own, calming my racing thoughts.

“So hypothetically, what would you call your gym, Trent?” Sabina asked. “Names are hard to—”

“ Barbell-ella ,” I said quickly and bit my lip.

Charlie chuckled. “Holy hell, that’s brilliant.”

“A play on the 1968 movie Barbarella with Jane Fonda.” I grinned. “I figured if we did a logo in pinks and blacks with a bad-ass looking woman lifting weights with one hand and waving a rainbow flag with the other, we’d weed out the small-minded.”

“I got brass ones, Trent. I like that.” Trixie clapped me on the shoulder.

“And you gave this some serious thought,” Sabrina said.

“Charlie pushed me to consider the idea and then I called Louise, my sister, to see what she thought.” I reached into my pocket, feeling the lollipop wrappers in there, but scooted closer to Charlie until our thighs touched instead. “I promised myself I’d find her a good job in Boston. If I opened a gym, I could give her one. She’d been working office jobs for years while studying business. I didn’t even offer her anything yet, and she already gave me a speech about getting sponsors and stuff.”

“Well, you sound ready to look at the space for rent.” Charlie slid out of the booth and took my hand.

“I think so, yeah.”