10. Mickey

CHAPTER 10

MICKEY

The first good thing that happened after fire night was Shane hiring Mickey to work at The Anchor. To start with, he'd be a server. Shane would show him how to mix drinks and then he could cover the bar. Mickey's interview had been short and sweet as Shane was a cut-the-bullshit kind of guy and Mickey immediately liked him.

He wasn't as old as Ethan, but he still had a few years on Mickey. He was kind and fair, and he gave Mickey the impression that he'd been through some shit. Maybe not exactly like the shit Mickey had been through, but Mickey could tell he'd been through something. Trauma recognizes trauma.

The second good thing was Taylor appearing like a fucking closet angel. He'd apparently sorted through his own wardrobe and yanked out a bunch of stuff he no longer wore, favoring more feminine looks now instead of band tees and the like. He also raided Nash's and Damon's closets. And then hit up Jonah and Milo. He said Spencer was a giant and Colby only owned gym clothes so their closets were safe.

It felt less like charity and more like Mickey was doing them all a favor somehow by taking all this unwanted, unloved, unused clothing. Even if it had felt like charity, Mickey was beyond the point of being able to turn help away.

It wasn't like Taylor had given him much of a choice in the matter. He'd simply shown up with two big suitcases of clothes and flopped them down on the couch. He unzipped the bags and pulled each item out one at a time, telling Mickey who it came from. It felt dangerously fun, almost like they were friends. Taylor was easy to be around. He never tried to dig for information about Mickey's past. He just endlessly chattered on about how he used to drive Colby nuts by stealing all his favorite shirts and other random stories from their childhood.

Mickey had never been the kid with all the friends. Because his dad could be temperamental, he didn't like to bring people around the house and then when he left, his friends were just people Lance knew who were friends with Mickey by proxy.

Taylor chatted like they'd known each other all their lives as he carefully folded each and every article of clothing, placing them into neat stacks on the coffee table. When he was done, he motioned to the piles. "I'll help you carry all that to your room."

Mickey shrank into himself. "I haven't exactly… I mean, he offered but…"

Taylor took it in stride. "The couch is super comfortable and I'm sure you'd be fine there. But we'll plop all this stuff in the guest room anyway. It used to be Jonah's room. Colby and I had to share the room across the hall. Then Jonah moved out and it was my room for a while before I started renting the basement." Taylor grabbed a stack of shirts and waited for Mickey. He swore Taylor's tongue was hinged in the middle because he kept talking. "I use the term renting extremely loosely. I know he only charged me a fraction of what he could rent it to someone else for, but—" Taylor shrugged and pushed the guest room door open.

Mickey hadn't been in the guest room at all. He'd been too tired and cold that first night and then after that he'd convinced himself that he wouldn't be staying long. The living room was plenty comfortable, but Mickey had started to feel like he was imposing. He was sure Ethan would want his privacy back by now, but so far he hadn't hinted at Mickey needing to leave.

Taylor had kept talking the whole time. Either he was oblivious to Mickey's internal struggle and chattered on unaware, or he guessed that Mickey was working through something and wanted to serve as a white noise machine, filling the silence with something so it wouldn't seem so loud.

"When do you start at The Anchor?" Taylor's question broke through Mickey's brain fog.

"Day after tomorrow. He didn't want to start me on the busiest nights of the week."

Taylor nodded. "You'd think people would want the extra hands when it's busiest, but if they're new, it's like twice the amount of work for the person training them. Shane is a good guy, though. I think you'll do well there. Sorry we didn't have any spaces open at the diner."

"It's fine." Mickey preferred it this way, regardless. Not that he'd tell Taylor that. Mickey had been relieved to not have to rely solely on Ethan for everything. It didn't feel safe. He'd done that before and he knew it was different because Lance was a piece of shit and Ethan couldn't be more different. But his experiences had left Mickey wary of putting too much trust in one place.

"I think you'll like The Anchor. It's got a good vibe."

"Yeah, it seemed pretty laidback when I went there for my interview." Mickey shoved his hands in his pockets and his fingers closed around the guitar pick Ethan had let him keep. Mickey found himself reaching for it throughout the day. It was like a touchstone now, a reminder that there was still good in the world.

"Shane's a good guy. The Anchor used to be this shitty little hole-in-the-wall with bad food and worse service. And I know it's a small town, but surely to God we can avoid being a stereotype. It's not exactly a gay bar, but the first thing he did when he took over was close the place for repairs. By the time it opened again, it looked better than new and had a rainbow flag in the window."

"I noticed that. Shane also told me that he didn't care who vouched for me, if I was going to be any flavor of phobic, he'd fire me so fast my head would spin."

Taylor nodded. "Shane is bisexual and he's not shy about it. I think the only way to piss him off is to be a homophobic asshole. Probably has a lot to do with how much shit he's taken for being an openly bisexual man. Things are a little better now, but people still suck."

Mickey sat on the edge of the bed. He was tempted to stretch out and go to sleep, but he refrained. He wasn't half as tired as he'd been when Ethan first ushered him through the front door.

"Love is love, right? Unless you're a bisexual, and then you're just gay and won't admit it." Mickey rolled his eyes. "I swear people make me want to punch them."

Not that he would. He'd never thrown a punch in his life.

"The stigma never made sense to me." Taylor's brows drew together. "Maybe that's why Colby had such a late bisexual awakening. It's not surprising that he'd be bisexual, though. Him being the only straight one of us kids never did make sense."

Mickey's brain screeched to a halt and he did his best to not outwardly react to the fact that Ethan wasn't straight. It wasn't something Mickey had let himself wonder about. He'd just assumed that an older man with three adult children was straight and had not thought anything more about it.

But Ethan being bisexual did something to Mickey's insides. It wasn't as though he'd laid about, thinking of him and Ethan together and what it would be like. Why would he have? He'd just assumed Ethan was straight. Mickey never did have a very good grasp on guessing other people's sexualities. He didn't know how some people just seemed to know. How they could look at someone in a grocery store and know they weren't going to get their face caved in if they flirted a bit.

Taylor, having finished loading all of the clothes into the dresser, plunked himself down on the bed next to Mickey. "I think you'll do well at your new job."

Mickey wasn't so sure, but he appreciated the vote of confidence. He opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by the sound of Taylor's phone ringing.

"Oh, it's the boyfriends." Taylor's expression went all soft and mushy as he answered.

"Do you miss me already?" he said. He was quiet for a minute, listening to whichever boyfriend had called him. "Oh, shit—" Taylor laughed and got up off the bed. "I forgot that was today. No, it's okay. I'm close by anyway. I just had to swing by Dad's house. I'll be there soon. Kiss Nash for me." Taylor ended the call and stuffed his phone away.

"Are you in trouble with the boyfriends?"

"I might have forgotten we were meeting for dinner tonight, so I have to go."

Mickey stood to walk Taylor out, even though it wasn't like he didn't know the way. "Thanks for coming over. And for the clothes. And for saying I'll be good at my job."

He was terrified of failing at his new job. He'd never had a job before. He went from being a high school student to being a live-in boyfriend. He'd tried to get a job a few times when he was living with Lance, but at first Lance sweet-talked him out of it.

Why would Mickey want to work when Lance wanted to take care of him? Lance loved taking care of him and it would hurt his feelings if Mickey didn't think he could. It was just a way to control Mickey, to make sure he didn't have anyone or anything but Lance. Lance controlled the content, the accounts, the money, and eventually he controlled Mickey too. Leaving Lance had meant leaving with nothing.

Never again. Mickey had made promises to himself when he finally broke free of Lance that he'd never go back. He'd never depend on anyone again. And though recent events had brought him into Ethan's home and Mickey was grateful, he was even more glad to have found a job somewhere else.

Mickey had already priced out hotel rooms. There were a few places in town that would rent by the month. It wasn't ideal, or cost effective, but once he got money coming in, it would be doable. With just the fee for the room and one meal a shift provided to him from The Anchor, Mickey could make do with convenience food on his days off. He'd been through worse. It sounded like luxury compared to where he'd been a few weeks ago.

With Taylor gone and Ethan still not home, Mickey was left to his own devices. After a shower and a change of clothes, he did a load of laundry. He washed the clothes he'd worn and the bedding that had been dutifully folded by him every morning. Mickey needed to find a different place to live, but for now at least he could give Ethan his living room back.

He sat down by the fire and pulled the guitar pick out of his pocket, staring at it as he turned it over in his fingers. A knock at the door jerked him out of his head and he got to his feet.

Peering through the peephole, Mickey was stunned to see his mom standing on the front step.

He yanked the door open. "Mom, hey. Come in."

She shook her head and glanced around like she was nervous. "I can't stay. But I wanted you to have this. It's not a lot, but it's—" Without another word, she pressed a white envelope into his hands. "I'm sorry I can't do more, Mich—Mickey."

"I'm working at The Anchor. I start in a few days. Come see me sometime?"

She nodded, but Mickey doubted he'd see much of her. "I have to get going."

Mickey stood in the doorway and watched his mom climb into her car. She backed out of the driveway and was gone, leaving Mickey with more questions. And an envelope of money. Mickey furrowed his brow and went inside, shutting the door. He counted the money, finding just under a thousand dollars.

It wasn't a lot, but it was more than Mickey had ever held at one time before. His parents didn't have a lot of money. He'd been too focused on getting good grades to worry much about an after-school job. And Lance had kept a tight grip on his wallet.

Mickey's legs turned to jelly and he all but stumbled to the couch. He counted and recounted the money and tried not to think too hard about where his mom got the cash or what it had really cost her to give it to him. Maybe when he was younger he might not have thought much about it, but now that he'd been through the things he had, it made him wonder what life was like for his mom.

Once his legs were working again, Mickey got up and stuffed the envelope of cash into the top drawer, placing it on all the carefully folded shirts Taylor had given him. If Mickey thought he'd take it, he'd give it to Ethan to pay him back for all the meals he'd been given from the diner. For the time he'd spent in his house. But then Mickey would be back at square one.

Ethan wouldn't take it anyway. Mickey could feel it in his bones.

No. He was better off using it to get out of here. He could rent a room for the month and by the time he needed to pay for another, he'd have a couple of paychecks under his belt.

It was a good plan.

A great plan even.

So why did Mickey feel like shit when he thought about leaving?