The Guy With the Suitcase (Once Upon a Guy #1) (15 page)

Vance put his hands on his waist. “It’s beige,” he replied with a fake French accent.

“Beige, schmeige, it schecks,” Pierce retaliated by also faking an accent.

Vance pressed his cheeks under his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Whatever that was, bury it as deep as you can,” he told him and marched his way back into the changing room.

“Whatever,” Pierce laughed.

His boss’s voice echoed in his ears while he was changing. “So, Rafe told me he is finally on his medication?”

Pierce nodded but remembered Vance couldn’t see him and gave a vocal reply.

“Does that mean you will finally start searching for your own place?”

“That’s the plan, but that won’t happen for another month at least.”

The curtain was pulled back and Vance appeared fashioning a sailor’s suit, with a white jacket and trousers, navy blue lines defining the collar and the button line and seams. A scarf was tied sideways on his neck and a light blue shirt was hiding underneath the buttoned suit. “Why so long?”

“Because I’m still helping Rafe with rent. If he worked more hours perhaps I would be able to actually save something,” he said and cocked his head to the side like a puppy, not so subtle with the hint.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know I would if I could. What am I supposed to do? Fire all my staff and have you two run the place?” Vance reprimanded him, but it was too difficult to take him seriously in what he was wearing.

“Hm, doesn’t sound that bad,” Pierce joked. “Speaking of bad, is your date—,” Pierce started but was interrupted by Vance.

“Friend,” he corrected.

“
Friend
who you’re trying to impress by buying a new suit? Yes,
friend
is the first word that comes to mind. Is your ‘friend’ into sailors? ‘Cause that’s the only way I can imagine him liking this suit. Or is it Halloween. But Halloween is way over, so maybe you’re aiming for some carnival,” Pierce commented.

Vance grimaced and headed for the changing room again. “You know, I think I liked you better when I hadn’t hired you yet,” he said.

“Oh, you mean when I served you your face, by insulting you in your own bar? Yeah, sometimes I like that Pierce better myself,” he replied.

Vance’s face appeared from between the curtains. “Remind me again, why did I ever hire you?”

He actually waited for the answer. Pierce tried to drag it for as long as possible making Vance look even more ridiculous the longer he held his position looking like a bodiless head floating.

“Because I’m hot and rugged, which is so obviously your type,” he told him.

His boss winked at him and retreated back into his changing room. “You are right. But if you’re anything to go by, I’m doomed. Unless I find a way to make all young Latinos disappear from the face of the Earth—,” he started but paused as if someone had gagged him. Then his voice came across, a little louder than a whisper. “Please tell me there is no one around because that sounded
so
wrong.”

Pierce laughed out loud. Vance eventually appeared to restrain Pierce’s mouth and shut him up.
 

“You know I can sue you for that,” Pierce told him before resuming his deep laughter.

“Shut up and tell me what you think,” Vance shouted at him.

Pierce opened his eyes and looked at his boss. His laughter ceased as he took him in. A grey, slim jacket hugged his upper body tight, matching the ashen blonde of his hair and a pair of trousers just a tone darker lined his buttocks, thighs, and calves in a taut embrace that made Pierce feel uncomfortable.

Was it okay for his boss to turn him on? Especially when his mind was occupied by a young Latino? Pierce crossed his legs before giving Vance the thumbs up, which made him prance back into the changing room and change into his jocks.

Waiting in line to pay Vance brought the conversation back to the initial topic. “How much have you saved for yourself so far?”

Pierce turned to his boss and gave him the pessimistic number. “A little under seven hundred. And considering it’s been more than two months since I started working for you, that’s bad.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve helped Rafe get healthy again. We just need to sort you out. You can’t be wasting your money on hostels any longer,” Vance replied as he put his hand on Pierce’s back.
 

Pierce had never told him he slept in the subway on the weekdays and he had asked Rafe to do the same. Yes, Vance was now equally a friend and a boss, but that didn’t mean he would be okay having his employees still homeless when they were on a reasonable enough income to pay for a bed, at least.

Rafe had suggested telling him because he thought Vance might even let him sleep on his couch or find someone else to host him while he was still saving, but Pierce didn’t want that. He didn’t want to let his colleagues know how much in need he was and change their opinion about him, or give anyone reason to think they were better than him and offer him ‘charity’. Pierce wanted to make it on his own. On his own with Rafe.

The other truth was that since Rafe and he had joined forces, he had slept in hostels more than usual. Especially after Rafe had got the job at Les Fourches they slept five out of seven nights in the same hostel. He didn’t want to worsen Rafe’s condition by adding more bacteria into his body, and if there was one place to find those, it was the subway.

Sleeping outside was no longer an option. Winter had set in in New York City, along with the Christmas decorations and the tourists from all corners of the planet. The streets were colder, noisier, and unwelcoming now more than ever.

It had been a month since Rafe had got the job at the bar and two weeks since he’d got a room. Vance had worked some of his tricks when paying Rafe, and even managed to give him fake pay stubs to present to potential landlords, and he was finally settled in a one bedroom private residence in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. His landlord, Wang, lived in the bedroom and Rafe was paying $750 a month to live in a tiny hole that fit only a bed and a canvas wardrobe, that had to be moved in order to open the door. It was better than the streets, though, especially since it was warm, had a bed and, more than anything, granted him access to his drugs.

It had only been a few days since his application for medication help had been approved. Rafe’s life had changed, and he couldn’t stop thanking Pierce for it. But for Pierce, it was enough that Rafe was good and out of the streets. He couldn’t say the same for himself. He still had a while to go before moving in his own place.

His leg buzzed and his phone rang in his jeans. He pulled out his new phone — an old, used Nokia with limited internet capabilities — and read Rafe’s name on the screen. He pressed the green button to answer.

“Hi, Pierce. How are you?”

Pierce walked outside of the store as Vance took his position in front of the register and paid up. “I’m good. Shopping with Vance for his date,” he replied.

Rafe whistled. “Wooh, go Vance! Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling. I just found out that Wang is going away on vacation for two weeks and I thought you might like to crash at my place until he’s back,” he lowered his voice, and when he finished, remained absolutely quiet waiting for Pierce’s reply.

Pierce wanted to jump and fist pump the air but resolved to saying a simple yes and a thank you before hanging up. It was Thursday, which meant he wouldn’t have to pay for a hostel for another two weeks, and he’d get to spend more time with Rafe. It was win-win no matter what way he looked at it.

He picked up his suitcase, parted ways with Vance, and made his way for Brooklyn on the C Line. Maybe life wasn’t being as unfair with him as he thought.

When the doorbell rang, Rafe checked his hair — which had grown over the last month — to make sure nothing was pointing to the wrong direction, then opened the door.

And there he was. The guy with the suitcase. The guy with the suitcase wearing a smile on his face. And there was nothing that made Rafe happier more than Pierce. Pierce wiped his shoes at the doormat and entered the apartment looking around.

“He left this morning,” Rafe reassured him. “Don’t worry. We’re all alone.” Rafe hadn’t meant that as racy as it came out of his mouth, but he rolled with it.

He showed Pierce in his bedroom, which he had tidied up and lit some tea candles to give some extra warmth to it. It was incredible how much junk one could collect in a matter of a fortnight. But once he went shopping, it was impossible to stop. He needed a bin for his trash and some more sketchbooks of varying sizes to pass his endless time between work, and, of course, a bookshelf to put said books. Before he knew it he had quite the welcoming room.

It was a rabbit hole, but it was his rabbit hole. He still had to move his wardrobe to open his bedroom door, but it was so light, it didn’t really matter to him. All he wanted now was to share his sacred space with the guy who had made everything possible.

Pierce put down his suitcase and sat on the bed. “You’ve really worked on the place,” he commented as he looked around.

“Yeah, had to do something with my time. Thank you,” Rafe responded trying to look into Pierce’s eyes, but they were focused on the fairy lights he had nailed on the ceiling for extra ambience.
 

It was only when Rafe said thank you that Pierce turned to look at him. “I’ve told you to stop saying that. I promised to find a way and I wouldn’t rest until I did.”

Rafe smiled. “Okay. Okay.” Rafe sat next to Pierce. “Do you want to tell me what is in that suitcase?” Rafe set his eyes on the case trying to open it up with his thought. “I mean I know it belonged to your grandad, but I’m sure there’s another reason why you’re carrying it around and I can’t believe you still haven’t told me.”

Pierce didn’t answer. He dragged the suitcase in front of his legs and popped it open. He took a pile of pictures out and passed them to Rafe.

“Those are all pictures my gramps took before he died. After he came out to his family and everyone turned their back to him he took all his savings and traveled the world. Even in his sixties, he lived a full, happy life as a gay man, and he saw the world. I like to look at them. They make me feel happy. They make me dream. They give me hope that things can get better, even if I have to wait forty years for it. One day, I’d like to take pictures of my adventures like he did, but until then I have his memories. And the suitcase, he left it to me in his will. The rest of his family got nothing. He gave me this suitcase because, as it said on his letter: ‘This suitcase is all I can give to my beautiful grandson and hope that it is enough’. So I like to keep both safe and sound,” Pierce said while Rafe went through the photographs.

They were all so beautiful, and the first thing Rafe realized was how much Pierce looked like his grandfather. If he was going to age like him, he was going to be a charming sixty-year-old. He could see why his grandfather hadn’t had a problem adjusting nicely to life as a gay man with his mature looks.

It wasn’t just the looks, however. It was also the pure happiness depicted in the pictures. Not just his, but that of his friends, and surely some of them had been his lovers too. Wherever he found himself, and he had gone
everywhere
, he was surrounded by happy people. He couldn’t blame Pierce for holding on to them. But he didn’t like the idea that Pierce felt hopeless. He wanted to give Pierce what he had given him, but he didn’t know how when he only worked two nights a week. Once he was fully on medication he would go looking for another job, but until then he felt too weak to do so. That didn’t erase his desire to get Pierce something to thank him. He was sure he’d find something. For now he would share his house, which this
bruto
had made possible, and hoped it was enough.

“Want to watch a film? Wang has Netflix so we can binge-watch 90s shows,” Rafe suggested, touching Pierce’s knee and getting up.

Pierce smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

Rafe exited the room and returned with a laptop in his hands. It was an expensive one. Pierce’s inquisitive face was enough for Rafe to answer.

“I asked him if I can use it to send resumes and stuff. He didn’t say no. So what if by stuff I meant porn and Netflix?”

Pierce’s inquisitive eyes remained and became accompanied by Pierce’s laugh.

“What? I’m a man. I got needs,” Rafe answered, hoping Pierce hadn’t taken his joke too seriously. Sure, he did like watching porn, but he didn’t want him to think that he’d rather watch all the sexy things he’d prefer to do to Pierce.

“So what will it be? Charmed or Buffy?” Rafe asked as he lied back on his pillow inviting Pierce next to him with a pat on the mattress.

Pierce took his jacket and shoes off and warmed up next to him. “Uhm, Charmed. Of course,” he answered nasally.
 

“See? I knew you’re my kind of man,” Rafe nodded and hoped Pierce got the hint.

He put an episode of the first season on and let the silence and proximity work its magic, not only on the show, but in real life too.

Halfway through, when the Halliwell sisters were facing another demon, Rafe laced his fingers with Pierce’s and squeezed. When he thought he’d warmed the field enough, he turned to plant a kiss on Pierce’s lips and initiate whatever needed initiating.