The Hardest Fall (Roadmap to Your Heart Book 3) (8 page)

I
woke with a start
. It was another one of those nightmares where I was running toward this thin disheveled woman with golden eyes who I could only assume was my mother. She was pushing a shopping cart beneath a bridge and no matter how fast my feet moved, I still couldn’t reach her.

Jumping in the shower, I ignored my morning wood, not willing to yank myself raw again. I thought about how it’d been a few days since I last saw Tate. I forced myself not to show up at Ruby Redd’s. I didn’t know what in the hell I thought I was doing. He knew Alan was dead, he admitted he had been emotionally gutted by their relationship. So why the hell would I want to add to that pain?

Except that envelope was hanging over me like an albatross around my neck. Maybe Tate needed to see the contents in order to understand that Alan was also tormented by his decisions. The same way I was tormented sleeping last night. Most nights, actually. It was a habit leftover from childhood, to sleep with my eye to the door, to wake up frequently to be sure nobody had taken off with my possessions.

During one of those middle of the night sessions, I watched both of Tate’s makeup tutorial videos like some lurker. He was so charming on screen, like he was born to be on stage or in front of a camera.

Walking into Rosie’s Repair Shop with coffee and bagels, I scrolled through the pink tickets and waited for Annie to help divvy up a large order of shoes that was dropped off by a woman a few days before. She wanted new toe and heel caps added on all the pumps, along with some rubber soles on the ballet flats.

I was able to avoid most of Annie’s questions this week about
my friend, Tate
and instead made some inquiries of my own, which I had rarely taken the time to do before. I knew plenty about her already given how many years she’d worked with my father and of course, being in a confined workspace together.

But unless Annie asked questions or volunteered information, we worked in silence with the sound of music or the hum of the street as a backdrop. It was time for me to make her feel like the trusted friend she was.

We got started soon after she arrived and sipped appreciatively at her coffee. It was a habit to save half of her bagel for her lunch—no wonder she was so thin. On the other hand, I scarfed mine down as soon as I opened the bag.

“I was thinking about that story I told you yesterday, about how Karen and I met,” she said in a casual voice. But after all this time, I knew that singsong tell in her tone. She was about to share something important. “I didn’t realize I was gay until I was in my twenties.”

I sucked in a breath as my head spun with a snapshot of images featuring all the women I’d dated the past decade of my life. I didn’t think I was gay, because I still found women attractive. So maybe I was bisexual. Fuck, I didn’t know what I was. Tate was the only man I’d ever consciously been attracted to, but then there was the jerking off with Alan and the incident with my college friend, so I was definitely doing some soul searching of my own.

“So how did you know?” I asked her in a tight voice, almost afraid of the answer. It was easier because her back was to me, at the sewing machine, still finishing up a leftover order from yesterday.

“I just…found myself thinking about her constantly,” she said. “And not just in a friendship kind of way.”

Damn, it was like she knew. Knew that I had been rubbing one off almost every night to thoughts of Tate. And not Tate in drag but Tate completely himself. Well the lipstick and eyeliner sometimes starred in my fantasies. But not the boobs and heels and dresses. This was so fucked up. It wasn’t that I minded those things. I just liked the real Tate a whole hell of a lot too.

“So what did you do about it?” I pretended not to hold my breath as I waited for her answer.

“I needed to decide if I wanted to jump in with both feet or not,” she said. “It’s sort of unfair to the other person if you’re not upfront—especially if you’re just testing the waters or experimenting. Unless they’re fully on board with it.”

Her words had stuck with me all day. And even now as I walked to the soup kitchen I thought about the fact that I wasn’t so much scared of expressing my attraction to Tate. It was that I knew a part of his history and I was keeping it from him.

As I turned the corner to Safe Harbor, I nearly collided with somebody dressed in a hoodie and jeans. It was Tate.

“What are you…?” My heart beat double time at just the sight of him.

“I…” he looked down, adjusting his black leather messenger bag over his shoulder. “Sorry, just haven’t seen you in a while and I wondered if you’d mind if I helped again.”

“They would love it. But you didn’t have to wait for me,” I said, hoping it wasn’t that he didn’t feel welcome. “You could’ve just come on your own.”

“I wanted to wait,” he said, kicking at a rock on the pavement. “I don’t understand what happened last time I saw you and I wanted to make sure we were cool.”

“We are,” I said and his shoulders relaxed. “I just…”

What in the hell did I say? That I’d been thinking about him and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that? Did I tell him about Alan? How could I not? But the thought of saying it also made me sick to my stomach.

“My bad if I freaked you out with the teasing and the heavy sob story,” he said, rushing his fingers through his hair. “I’m good at sticking my foot in my mouth. I normally like to keep things light. I don’t know why you seem to bring out the…”

“God Tate, you absolutely don’t have to keep things light. You be you. Light, dark, or in between,” I said, stepping closer. “It’s just that I’m trying to figure some things out about myself and I…”

“No worries,” he said taking a step back. As if he was crowding me, when in fact it was the other way around. “You don’t have to hang with me.”

“Thing is, I want to,” I said finally getting up the courage to voice it out loud. “I’m…attracted to you, Tate, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I also don’t know what to do with that or how to handle it. It scares me because it’s new and…”

“You don’t have to do anything with it. Just be you,” he said, and I noticed how his cheeks had colored. “Besides you’re not the first straight guy to think I’m irresistible.”

I burst into laughter as our gazes collided and held. It felt good to let loose with him again. It felt good just being around him in general.

“I’m serious. I’m not trying to get anything from you, Sebastian. I just like you,” he said and there was so much sincerity in his gaze. “I’m attracted to you too, but I can push that to the side because I like hanging out with you more. I don’t know why exactly…”

“Gee, thanks,” I scoffed. He had made the effort to come all the way down here and tell me these things. It meant he cared about my feelings. Which made me all the more confused.

He grinned and shook his head. “I just think you’re interesting. Can’t that be enough? I’ve never had to explain wanting a friendship with another dude before. I mean, unless I was letting somebody down easy.”

He was right. We were being ridiculous. “Yeah, it’s all cool. Let’s head inside.”

M
y heart thumped
a steady beat the entire time Tate was working beside me in the food line. Today was chicken marsala day and he was dishing out a rice dish that went alongside the main course.

He even brought a small makeup bag with him and afterward, I watched as he approached Sally and sat down to talk to her and everybody else at her table, including Chris, the trans woman who had spoken to him last time. Sally clapped her hands in excitement as he offered her some eye shadow and blush and some ladies moved closer to get a better view of how she looked as Tate made her up.

When Tate turned to Chris and offered a plastic case he removed from his bag that contained a set of mascara, powder and blush, Chris’s eyes turned watery, and I’d admit something clinked hard in my chest.

Some might see makeup as shallow but for folks down on their luck and fighting to survive, it was a nice distraction. For Chris, it was her identity. They’d never be able to regularly afford cosmetics on their own but for one night it was fun. When Tate looked up at one point and searched the room for me, it made my pulse beat double time. When his gaze held mine, and he smiled, I wanted to kiss him. So fucking bad. And that terrified the hell out of me.

Afterward we walked down Houston Street toward Carmine and I realized just how tired I was due to my lack of sleep the past few nights. It usually caught up with me one way or another.

“That was awesome,” Tate said, with an extra spring in his step. “Thanks for introducing me to that place.”

“It feels soul quenching, right?”

“That’s a great way to describe it,” he said. “Hey, listen. I was thinking about Chris and wondered if there were any clothes or shoes I could send her way. She’s about my size and I have way too many outfits I don’t even wear on stage anymore.”

“Chris would be grateful for anything,” I said feeling a surge of appreciation for his thoughtfulness. “She doesn’t have that many more days left before she has to move on from Safe Harbor and try to make it on her own.”

I was about to part ways and say good night when he asked me to follow him to his place. “Can you help me decide what might work for her?”

Obviously women’s clothing was not in my wheelhouse, so I didn’t know if he was simply nervous about donating the right clothes to a transgender woman living in transitional housing or if he was enjoying my company as much as I was enjoying his.

“Going through my closet probably doesn’t sound exciting to you,” he said, turning toward his apartment. “So no worries at all.”

“It’s not that,” I said, trailing behind him. “I just figured you have a roommate in the fashion industry and you guys probably discuss clothing all the time.”

“Tori’s not home tonight,” he said, and looked down at his feet as if timid. Shy Tate was adorable. “Plus, I don’t know. I guess I just thought…”

“Let me see what you’ve got,” I said, before either of us changed our minds or realized what a terrible idea this was to be alone in his apartment together. Not only was there a burgeoning attraction but a secret between us as well.

I followed him up the stairs to his apartment, which was dark when we got inside. It felt momentarily clandestine until he flipped on the light and the messy kitchen came into view. Dishes were loaded on the counter and a couple of takeout containers were sitting alongside and looked strikingly similar to mine on certain occasions.

Tate sighed and immediately headed to the sink to begin loading the dishwasher, as if ashamed that we had found the place that way. “She must’ve forgotten to clean up.”

“Please, don’t do that on my account.” I reached for his shoulder. It felt natural to touch him. In fact, I felt like I wanted to get closer any way I could. He didn’t flinch, instead he became motionless, until I realized that I hadn’t removed my hand. “You have no idea what my place must look like right now.”

“Seriously?” he looked over his shoulder and smirked. “I can’t believe you’d be a messy guy. Your shop was clean when I came by that one day.”

“Thanks to Annie,” I said. “She keeps me organized.”

“Plus, you always dress so…” his gaze swept up the line of my grey twill trousers to the button-down plaid shirt that was rolled at the sleeves. “Immaculately. So whatever your reservations were, I wasn’t so off-base asking you to help me look through clothes.”

“I don’t know,” I said, fiddling with one of my cuffs that had begun to unravel. “Annie always tells me that guys have it easy with wardrobe choices.”

“I’d have to agree,” Tate said, as he wiped the counter with a wet rag. “Women have way too many choices when it comes to skirt lengths and shoes.”

After he finished tidying up the kitchen, I followed him the few remaining steps to his bedroom, which was a tiny space that only had enough room for a double bed and one dresser. “Where the heck do you even fit your wardrobe?”

That’s when he shut the door almost all the way to reveal the metal rack that was wedged near the wall. “I keep most of them at Ruby Redd’s, but these are a few I haven’t worn in a while.”

There was no place to sit, so I sank down on the edge of his bed that had a soft gray comforter, while he held up some dresses and skirts. We decided which outfits could go to Safe Harbor and which shoes could be repaired at the shop before he ditched them for good.

“I don’t want to put you out,” he said as he placed the heels in a plastic grocery bag for me to carry home.

“Annie will be thrilled,” I said, waving him off. “She’s been asking about you.”

“Is she wondering who her boss’s mysterious drag queen friend is?” he asked in a casual manner while hanging up a dress with pink rhinestones. It reminded me how he’d covered for me the other day.

“She never pries, but I know she’s curious,” I said around a yawn. It felt good to sit down. “Truth is, I love Annie, and respect her. But we don’t know each other as well as we should. That’s my fault.”

He met my gaze head on as if my declaration didn’t come as much of a surprise. He had gathered that much himself already. He waited patiently for me to tell him something more. “I haven’t really…I don’t have many close friendships.”

I wrung my hands in my lap, nervous what he’d think, which was all kinds of ridiculous. But it definitely wasn’t easy to say out loud, even as an established adult. “See, there’s a reason why I connect with those folks at Safe Harbor.”

His eyes widened and he sank against the door jamb as if to brace himself for what I was about to tell him. But I felt compelled to go on. He had told me some personal things the last time we were together, so why not share something of my own? Especially since I was practicing this friendship thing and all. “I was a foster kid after my mom died. We were homeless—my mom and I—and most nights we’d usually sleep under the Manhattan Bridge.”

He grew completely still as he absorbed that information and then his eyes softened as he studied me.

“I read a recent news article in the Times where some of the homeless would climb the fence to sleep between the steel struts of the bridge and it jogged a memory for me.” That moment had been so surreal. To remember such a stark and depressing thing.

“People could fit there?” he asked as if trying to picture it.

“It’s maybe a ten-by-two-foot space and easy enough to crawl into away from the elements. But not if you had a kid,” I said, trying not to shiver from the memory of almost freezing to death during some colder months.

My earliest recollections of my mother were the times she would sing me to sleep and curl me up in her arms to keep me protected at night. I will never forget that feeling of being so close to her, warm and safe. I didn’t wake up shivering from those dreams. I woke up in tears because the feeling was indescribable. We may have been homeless but I knew innately that I was loved.

“My mom had this hacking cough. I remember that much.”

Tate’s pupils dilated and I decided not to say anything more because no way I wanted him to pity me. But there were times when I’d hear a similar rattling cough from one of the residents at Safe Harbor and I couldn’t shake that feeling that always came over me. Cloying fear and intense loneliness. The stuff that starred in my nightmares and kept me up at night.

“What happened?” Tate mumbled as he took a step closer, his knees knocking against the edge of his bed.

“I was young when she died. I don’t know, maybe five or six?” I said. “One morning she wouldn’t wake up and we had thankfully been in a shelter for the night, so I wasn’t alone.” I took a deep fortifying breath to keep my voice level, because saying it out loud sounded pretty awful and made my heart stutter in my chest. “Social services took custody and I was in different foster homes for a while. Anyway, I’m so grateful that my dad adopted me when he did.”

“Goddamn. I’m sorry.” Tate had placed his head in his hands and when he lifted his gaze his eyes were filled with sorrow. “I don’t even know what to say…fuck.”

“Who’s being a Debbie Downer now?” I laughed and it seemed to break the tension.

After another beat, Tate moved to the other side of the room, opening some drawers and putting away some jewelry that we had taken out when deciding on outfits for Chris, the silence comfortable and needed in that moment. I watched him meticulously straighten items on top of his dresser as he went and I almost made a crack about him being a neatnik again, but I was enjoying simply observing him.

“Well,” I said, feeling my muscles tightening up from being so lethargic. “Guess I better get going.”

“Are you sure? Because I was going to suggest,” Tate said, reaching for the remote on his side table. “I just thought…after that heavy stuff, I figured we needed some ice cream and a comedy to get us back on track. But if you have to go, that’s okay too. No pressure.”

He wanted to watch a movie. When was the last time I did that with a friend? I was always alone in my apartment. “Depends on what flavor ice cream you’ve got.”

The corner of his lip lifted. “Guess you don’t know about me and ice cream. You’re about to find out.”

“Really?” he walked past me out the door to the kitchen, hooking his finger for me to follow. When he opened the freezer, it was stuffed to the gills with all sorts of cartons of custards and sorbets.

“Holy shit,” I said, wondering if I’d ever seen that much ice cream in one refrigerator.

“Yeah, ice cream is my guilty pleasure.”

“Where do you put it all?” I marveled, and immediately blushed.

He didn’t smirk or joke or make me feel embarrassed like I thought he would. “It’s bound to catch up with me one day,” he said as he pulled out two bowls and spoons. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Strawberry,” I said, wondering if it sounded too ordinary.

He scrunched his nose. “Why would you have fruit in your ice cream when you can have chocolate? Chocolate rules.”

“I can’t eat a lot of chocolate. It’s too rich. Strawberry is light and refreshing.”

“What planet did you come from?” he said, staring at me. “There is no such thing as too much chocolate.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree,” I said, and pointed at a vanilla flavor with caramel swirls that looked appetizing. “The best place I’ve had ice cream in the city is at OddFellows in the East Village. Fresh and not too sweet.”

“Have you tried Ten Below on Mott Street?” he asked, and when I shook my head he said, “Save that favorite slot until you try it.”

“Oh really?” After he ladled out two bowls of his expensive store bought ice cream, I figured we’d stay in the living room, until I noticed there was no television.

“Do you guys each have your own TV?” I asked as I followed him back to his room.

“Yeah, but we’re in each other’s rooms all the time anyway so it doesn’t matter,” he said, placing the bowls on the dresser and again reaching for the remote. “Are you uncomfortable on my bed?”

“No, it’s cool.” I slid off my shoes and got comfy against his pillow as he handed me the bowl.

After we finished eating our ice cream, he started
Anchorman
and we laughed our asses off at Will Farrell’s antics.

At some point in the movie, I apparently fell asleep with my head cradled against Tate’s shoulder.

I felt his fingers lightly trace over my bicep as I began to stir awake in varying degrees. It felt so good, so warm. And the way he smelled. Damn. Like freshly washed clothes with a hint of musk and vanilla.

It made me want to curl up in his lap and purr like a cat. I turned my head and buried my nose further into his neck to get another whiff. His soft hair brushed against my cheek and I heard him groan under his breath.

“Fuck.” I awoke fully with a start, rolling my stiff neck muscles. “I’m sorry. Why didn’t you push me off? I hope I didn’t snore.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, adjusting himself on the bed. “I don’t mind a little snoring. It was the drooling that got me.”

When my eyes widened, that sexy smirk was planted on his face. “Bastard.”