FIC: I Know What I'm After (4/7)
Title: I KNOW WHAT I’M AFTER (4/7)
Author: Montmorency
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: About 3,700 (this part only)
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Never happened. Written for entertainment only. The real people who form the basis of these characters have their own lives.
Summary: Adam and his friends are in a band, and their guitarist just ditched them to play for Madonna. Tommy shows up at the audition, but disappears shortly afterwards.
Notes: If you notice that certain names appear similar to those of real people, but not quite the same, that was done on purpose. The age difference between Adam and Tommy has been changed to suit the story. They’re about four years apart in this.
This, by the way, is not a work-in-progress. It’s done, about 27k words. I’m posting it in seven parts, from now till the New Year. I really struggled not to start posting right away. I’m impatient like that. The story is SO much better for not having been posted as a work-in-progress. I have my wonderful pre-reader and prompt-provider fairfax_verde to thank for that. The prompt was hers, from the kinkmeme, and wasn’t filled. It was too good to go unfilled, and I’m grateful that I got to be the one to do it. As I’ve been writing over the past few months, she has provided feedback and ideas and cheerleading. Without her, the story would be floundering hopelessly in never-never land still. Also: any typos or errors are 100% my bad.
The first chapter starts here
Chapter 4
Adam calls Tommy every four hours from his mom’s condo. He’s in love so he can’t help himself. Disguising it as making sure the apartment is okay doesn’t work. Even his mother isn’t fooled.
“You said that Tommy can play the guitar?”
Adam plays snippets from the practices on his iPhone for her.
“Is he nice?”
Adam shows her a buttload of photos on said iPhone.
“Oh, he’s cute!” She’s stirring cookie batter. For Adam. He loves visiting his mom; it’s like he doesn’t have to act grownup or anything when it’s just the two of them. “So tell me, dear, is this the one you’ve been mooning over?”
Adam sits up straighter on the counter stool. “Who said I’m mooning? I don’t moon.”
Leila smiles beatifically. “You think your mother doesn’t know?”
“Oh, Mom.” Adam lays his head on the counter and sighs melodramatically.
“You don’t call this mooning?” she asks, getting out cookies sheets and cooling racks.
Adam puts a bigger effort into moaning.
“If you start singing Tit Willow I’m going to whack you upside the head with this spatula.”
Adam snorts.
“Here, you spoon out the dough.” She hands him a spoon and turns on the oven, then pulls up a stool and sits next to him. “Tell me everything.”
So Adam spills out the story while he spoons out the dough. He does tell everything except Tommy’s offer, because he’s afraid she will think Tommy is a prostitute or something. Instead he tells her that Tommy isn’t in love with him.
“How can you be sure?”
“He as much as told me.”
“Because you told him that you are in love with him?”
“Kind of.”
“He doesn’t seem like he’d say something hurtful.”
“It wasn’t hurtful. Not on purpose. It was truthful. I’m not sure he’s gay.”
Leila nods. “Aha. Has he ever talked about a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“But then he’s been living on the streets.”
“Yeah.”
Leila puts her hand over Adam’s where it lies on the counter. “Adam, don’t take this the wrong way, but what if Tommy has, you know…”
“V.D.?” Adam snorts again. “I’m not sure he’s even had sex. He’s a total loner. He has one friend, a guy named Oracio who gives him work now and then. Far as I can tell, that’s it.”
“Maybe Oracio is his boyfriend?”
“Nope. I think if he could, they’d share an apartment as roommates, but Oracio still lives with his parents right down the street from Tommy’s parents.”
“Who sound like they’re running a strange and disturbing cult out of their house.”
“Yep.”
The oven dings to indicate that it’s heated up. Adam slides off his stool and puts a cookie sheet in the oven and sets the timer. He leans back against the counter and folds his arms. “How come I can’t find anyone, Mom?” he asks plaintively.
“Oh, honey.” Leila goes to him and gives him a big hug. Adam hugs her back.
“Am I not nice enough?”
“You are the nicest boy the world has ever known,” Leila insists. “You’ve had boyfriends.”
“But it never works out.”
“You’re not that old yet, Adam. Cut yourself some slack.” She pulls back and grips his forearms and looks him straight in the eye. “Are you sure you’re getting interested in the right men?”
Adam raises an eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me to stop chasing straight guys?”
“Got it in one,” she says, patting his arms and returning to the counter and setting out a fresh cookie sheet. “Come on, handsome, this dough isn’t going to spoon itself.”
* * *
The last call of the night he makes while tucked into the guest bed in the condo’s second bedroom. The lights are out and he dials from deep under the covers. San Francisco is a lot colder than Los Angeles.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” comes the soft voice.
“Are you having fun with your phone? Did you put in everybody’s phone number?”
“I did. Isaac showed me how.”
“Good for Isaac. What did you do today, baby?” It feels so intimate talking quietly in the dark like this. He wants to ask Tommy if he’s in bed, too - his bed - but he can’t do that. He’s the one who told Tommy there’d be no sex, so he has to watch out and not confuse Tommy.
“Um, me and Ashley went shopping at this place called Thrift Village.”
Adam laughs quietly. He knows the place well. He’s bought plenty of stuff there himself. He prefers the shops on Melrose but he can’t afford that all the time. “Did you find anything super chill?”
“Jeans and two tee-shirts,” Tommy answers.
Of course that’s what Tommy would buy.
There’s a soft tapping on the bedroom door and he hides the phone under the covers. “Come in.”
Leila leaves the door open a bit, the hallway light falling on the bed. She sits next to him and strokes his hair. “It’s wonderful having you here.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Adam says.
“What’s under there?” she asks, because of course she can see the glow of the phone through the blanket.
He drags it out and holds it up sheepishly. “Say hi to Tommy.”
Leila takes the phone with a fond smile at her son. “Hello, Tommy? This is Leila.”
Adam can hear the tinny little voice respond.
“Um, hi.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m good.”
“Adam tells me you are an amazing guitarist.”
“Um. Thank you.”
“One of these days I’m going to come down to Los Angeles when a concert is scheduled so I can hear this wonderful band in person.”
“Sure.”
Leila smiles. Adam can tell that she likes Tommy, even though he’s so hesitant. “I’m going to give you back to Adam, but I do think it’s time for sleeping now,” she says. “Good night, Tommy.”
“Good night,” Adam hears, and then the phone is back is his hand. “Is everything locked up tight?” he says into the phone.
“Mm-hmm,” Tommy answers. “I should hang up, right?”
“Till tomorrow. Good night. Sleep tight.”
He hears a final g’night and thumbs off the phone. When he looks up at his mother, she’s still smiling that sweet maternal smile. He feels tears pricking his eyes.
“Oh my beautiful baby boy,” Leila says. “You’re going to have a nice boy for yourself one of these days. You will.” She leans over to kiss his forehead. “I love you, Adam.”
“Love you, Mom,” Adam says.
The days go by and they don’t get easier. Tommy reports that he and the band are practicing like crazy and that Brian wants to record a new demo as soon as Adam is back. Something about submitting it to the gigantic festival in Texas, South by Southwest. He made some money, too: Oracio took him on another job, helping some people to move to a new house. It was a nice house, not too big but not that small, either. Adam can tell that Tommy was thinking about his own family house growing up, but whether that is good or bad, Adam can’t tell.
In spite of his anxiousness to get back to Los Angeles, Adam is happy for the time with Leila. On the morning he leaves, she holds onto him a long while on the sidewalk outside the condo building.
“Come visit soon,” Adam tells her.
He drives a lot faster than he should. He gets lucky - no accidents, no tickets. When he skids into his parking space at the apartment building, he leaves his overnight bag behind and clatters up the stairs and lets himself in. He’d forewarned Tommy by calling an hour in advance, and the apartment smells like pancakes and coffee. That’s kind of upside-down since it’s midafternoon, but who cares?
Not Adam, given that Tommy is standing there barefoot with a spatula in one hand and his new phone in the other, wearing a dark blue hoodie, a striped tee-shirt, and comfortably worn jeans. Adam slams the door behind him and crosses the room in three strides and envelopes Tommy in a bear hug.
“Did you have fun?” he asks. “In your own place?”
“Yes, Adam,” Tommy says, muffled against his chest. “I can’t breathe.”
Reluctantly Adam releases him. “You made pancakes for me?”
Tommy shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know how to make anything else.”
“I love pancakes! You and my mom are conspiring to fatten me up.”
Tommy moves into the kitchen to flip the pancakes. The coffee pot is brimful and a jar of real maple syrup is sitting on the counter. He pours himself a cup of coffee.
“Look what I got for two dollars,” Tommy says, pulling at his Frankenstein tee-shirt.
“You’re so stylin’,” Adam chortles, sipping the hot coffee.
And then he hears it. A scratching sound? Tommy looks worried.
“What’s that?” asks Adam. He follows the sound to the hall closet. Something is definitely in there, making scratching sounds. “Tommy! Is Rosemary’s baby in our apartment?”
Tommy stands in the hall, shifting from one foot to the other.
Carefully, Adam turns the doorknob.
“Um, Adam,” Tommy begins. Adam looks back at him. He doesn’t say anything else, though.
Adam opens the door and a tiny kitten scrambles out, skidding on the wood floor. Adam looks at Tommy again. “Tommy?” he asks, with a bit of displeasure this time. He dislikes cats. Dogs are okay. Cats aren’t.
“She was alone,” Tommy says.
“She can’t stay here!” Adam says. “I’m not a cat person.”
“Are you allergic to them?” Tommy asks. “You’re not, are you?”
“No, not allergic, I just don’t need a cat is all.” Adam stomps off to the living room, trying to see where the kitten got itself to. He finds the creature and picks it up. “Ouch,” he yelps when it digs sharp tiny claws into his hand. He goes to the front door and opens it.
“No!”
Adam turns back, surprised.
“You can’t put her back out there, she’ll die.”
“Okay, I won’t, but she has to go to the shelter.” Adam closes the door again.
Tommy takes the kitten from him and cuddles the tiny creature to his chest.
Adam exhales. “Come on, Tommy, you knew I wouldn’t be happy about this or you wouldn’t have tried to hide it in the closet.”
Tommy won’t look up at him. “No one wanted her,” he says softly, stroking the kitten’s dark fur. “She was by that stucco apartment building two blocks away, and this creep kicked her off the balcony.”
“Oh, Tommy.” Adam pushes Tommy’s bangs out of his eyes and lifts his chin. “But I can’t keep her. And Sophie’s allergic to cats.”
“Nobody wanted her,” Tommy repeats.
“Maybe she belongs to someone who’s looking for her right now.”
“There was a lady at the building who said she’s a stray and she just showed up a few days ago and no one came looking for her and no one put up any signs for her.”
“The shelter will find someone to adopt her,” Adam says, feeling guilty for his earlier outburst. Tommy was just trying to do something nice, which is one of the things that makes Adam love him even more.
“Nobody wanted her,” Tommy insists, staring at Adam.
Suddenly Adam gets it. He could smack himself upside the head.
Nobody wanted Tommy.
Then and there, Adam decides he’s going to become a cat person if it kills him.
Adam doesn’t do things by half measures, either. He’s all in. They get the litter box and food and water dishes out of the closet.
“What’s this shit?” Adam asks, hefting an open box of cat food. “Alley Cat? Who feeds their cat something called that?”
“It was the cheapest one,” Tommy says.
Adam’s in for a lot of virtual head-smacking in the future. He gets it. Tommy bought these things for the kitten from his own cash reserves. “You did great, Tommy. From now on, let’s get the highest quality food for her. She’s scrawny and she needs healthy shit.” He remembers the family dog from growing up and how his parents got the most nutritious brands. Hell, they fed the family dog better quality food than their own sons.
There’s no way the kitten is going to the Carpenters, given Sophie’s allergies, and Adam is afraid to be left alone with the creature, so Tommy stays over again, curled up on Adam’s big bed with the tiny kitten snuggled in his arms.
Adam wakes up hours later, on his makeshift bed of sofa cushions on the floor, with a purring weight on his own stomach. It’s worth it, though, because through the purring he can hear Tommy’s quiet, even breathing.
* * *
Isaac has a lead on two friends who need a third person to share their apartment in Panorama City. They’re musicians, too, so they will understand Tommy. Even though Tommy doesn’t make nearly enough money to truly share rent, they’re happy to have someone in the extra bedroom, even if he only splits in on utilities.
Ronette the tortoiseshell kitten moves there, too. Adam misses Tommy but breathes a sigh of relief, because he can moon pathetically around his apartment and whack off to thoughts of Tommy with no witnesses.
The band practices, creates a demo of three songs, renames itself five times, and gets a CD off to SXSW. They land three more local gigs. Adam scores the Pirate King role in a three-week run of Pirates of Penzance in a mid-sized Woodland Hills theater. He convinces them to hire Tommy as an apprentice stagehand. The pay is shit but they get to spend more time together. They even carpool; Adam picks him up and they go together.
“Tommy’s coming out of his shell,” Ashley remarks one day at the studio while she and Brian and Adam wait for Isaac and Tommy to stop messing with their guitars and amps and cables and drum stands and things.
Adam enthusiastically agrees. “Isn’t it amazing to see?”
“Dude can fucking play,” Brian says. “We got lucky.”
“He’ll be loyal, too,” Adam says.
Ashley squints playfully at Adam. “I think he’s loyal to you, Adam.”
“He likes all of us.”
“And we like him.”
“He wants to play music. He’ll be loyal to the band. It’s not just me, for fuck’s sake.”
Ashley just smiles beguilingly. “Uh huh, Adam, whatever you say.” She bumps fists with Brian.
Adam rolls his eyes.
“Can we go have lunch?” Tommy asks later, as Adam drives him home, having won the right by strong-arming Isaac in the parking lot. They take turns giving Tommy rides, especially Isaac and Ashley because they live in the Valley like Tommy does now.
“Of course. Where do you want to go?”
Tommy names a small restaurant. “I’m treating,” he says.
Adam’s about to refuse when he thinks of the look Tommy got when he paid his own way after the Baked Potato gig. “Thanks,” he says instead.
At the restaurant he orders something inexpensive, just a falafel wrap. He declines dessert but Tommy won’t have that, ordering a big slice of chocolate velvet cake to share.
“I’m fattening you up,” he announces.
Adam takes a bite of the cake and makes a big deal of moaning in ecstasy. “Am I not fat enough already for you?”
“You’re not fat,” says Tommy. “You’re perfect.”
Adam grins. “I’m perfect? I love you, Tommy Joe.”
Tommy ducks his head. That smile is still haunting the corners of his mouth. Adam wishes he knew what it would take to bring it out.
“I want to do something for Christmas,” Tommy says, looking up again, toying with his fork.
“You mean go to church?” Adam is confused.
“No way. I’m an atheist.”
“Oh.” Adam’s never been very religious. He’s more spiritual than anything.
“I can’t believe in that shit about some random God loving people when kids are living on the street and don’t have food or anywhere to sleep. So - there’s this mission on the Strip, they have Christmas dinner for people who don’t have a place to go. I want to help them this year.”
“That’s awesome, baby,” Adam says, feeling suddenly guilty about the chocolate cake.
“They used to feed me sometimes. They didn’t make me go to church or anything. Just a prayer before we ate and I didn’t have to say it, I could just be quiet for a minute.”
Adam grabs Tommy’s hand under the booth table and squeezes. “I’ll go with you and help.” He figures he could stand to learn more about how people less lucky than he is get by.
“I used to help with the dishes afterwards.”
“We can both do that.”
“And put together the trays and napkins and things to get ready before it starts.”
“Anything they need help with, we’ll do it.”
“Okay. Thanks. It’s just, they helped me. Like you help me.”
“Tommy, you don’t have to thank me all the time. I’m doing it out of pure selfishness.”
Tommy looks surprised. “You are?”
“Of course! I got an incredible friend, and the band got a great guitarist.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s good?”
“Very good, silly goose. And hey, why are you making me eat all this cake by myself? Dig in, for the love of all that’s holy.”
On the way to Panorama City they stop at a Ralph’s to pick up milk and microwaveable tacos and cat food. Adam grabs a bag of Science Diet for kittens.
“My treat,” he says firmly.
Tommy wants to get a new toy for Ronette. They have fun looking at the selection. Finally Tommy chooses a feathery thing on a sort of fishing pole. Adam grabs it.
“Let her Uncle Adam buy her a Hanukkah present.”
This means that Adam has to go inside the apartment to see the kitten. It’s a weekday afternoon and the apartment is all theirs, so the three of them play together on the floor, Adam and Tommy on hands and knees pretending to be cats. Ronette hisses a little at first. The feather toy changes her mind completely and she proves to have more stamina than either of them. When they’re finally tuckered out, Tommy curls up in a bar of sunlight that falls across the threadbare carpeting, the kitten nestled in the crook of his arm, and closes his eyes.
Adam leans back against the sofa, cataloguing everything about Tommy, and remembers the first time he saw him - skinny, ill-nourished, with circles under his eyes, not especially clean, wearing worn-out clothing. Now he’s wearing the jacket Adam gave him, he looks well-fed and healthy, his hair is shiny and clean, his skin smooth and flawless. I helped make that happen, Adam thinks happily. Even though Tommy’s becoming more confident, more open, he’s still a quiet person who enjoys time by himself. Now it’s his choice, though. So long as he loves spending time with Adam, which he clearly does, all is well in Adam’s world.
It occurs to him that Tommy feels similarly about Ronette, maybe. That he made a difference in the kitten’s life, that he loves to care for her. A wave of fondness washes over Adam. He crawls over to Tommy and wraps himself around the slight body so that they’re a little huddle of three. Even with eyes closed, Tommy’s not asleep, because that smile is hovering again. Adam presses his forehead against Tommy’s. The kitten objects to the movement and squeaks, stretches out a tiny arm and flexes her claws against Adam’s wrist, then settles back.
Adam drifts off in the bright afternoon languor.
He wakes suddenly. The bar of sunlight has moved. He’s still curled up with Tommy, but the kitten has disappeared. He hears her lapping water in the kitchen.
Tommy’s eyes are open; he’s watching Adam. Something amazing happens.
Tommy smiles.
It’s a tentative, scared thing, a bare lifting of the corners of his mouth. But there it is and it’s gorgeous.
“Hey,” Adam says quietly.
“Hey.”
He reaches out and pushes Tommy’s bangs off his forehead. It’s so amazing, the way Tommy has changed in a few months, as though he was sleepwalking through life until now. As though he was waiting all his life to become what he is now. Adam feels tears in the back of his eyes; he’s probably going to cry like a big baby. He’s always been ridiculously emotional at embarrassing moments. Early on, he learned to go with it. Leila always gave him permission; now he gives himself permission.
“You’re waking up,” he tells Tommy. “And the world is beautiful.”
“It is,” Tommy says solemnly.
Uh oh. “Are you going to thank me again?”
“Was. Won’t.”
“Good.”
“You did it for me, though. You woke me up.”
Adam grabs Tommy and squeezes hard. “No, you did it yourself. You came to the audition.”
“Can’t breathe,” mumbles Tommy.
Adam lets up and Tommy rolls away and rises to hands and knees. He looks at Adam another moment and, abruptly, leans down to plant a soft kiss on Adam’s cheek. Then he jumps up and darts off to the kitchen.
Adam sits up, cross-legged, dabs roughly at his eyes, and runs his hands through his hair. The kiss on his cheek is burning. He’s horribly jealous of the random roommates who share this apartment with Tommy. They get to see him sleepy-warm, just out of bed, or sitting around watching whatever straight guys watch on TV. Almost certainly, they don’t have the slightest appreciation of being favored with such a wonderful gift. He should have been brave and let Tommy stay in his apartment forever, litter box and all. It’s madness, he knows. But he wants it so badly.
He can’t have it, though, so he gets up and follows Tommy to the kitchen and hugs him gently from behind. When Tommy’s hands grip his briefly, he knows this will have to be enough.
On to Chapter 5
Author: Montmorency
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: About 3,700 (this part only)
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Never happened. Written for entertainment only. The real people who form the basis of these characters have their own lives.
Summary: Adam and his friends are in a band, and their guitarist just ditched them to play for Madonna. Tommy shows up at the audition, but disappears shortly afterwards.
Notes: If you notice that certain names appear similar to those of real people, but not quite the same, that was done on purpose. The age difference between Adam and Tommy has been changed to suit the story. They’re about four years apart in this.
This, by the way, is not a work-in-progress. It’s done, about 27k words. I’m posting it in seven parts, from now till the New Year. I really struggled not to start posting right away. I’m impatient like that. The story is SO much better for not having been posted as a work-in-progress. I have my wonderful pre-reader and prompt-provider fairfax_verde to thank for that. The prompt was hers, from the kinkmeme, and wasn’t filled. It was too good to go unfilled, and I’m grateful that I got to be the one to do it. As I’ve been writing over the past few months, she has provided feedback and ideas and cheerleading. Without her, the story would be floundering hopelessly in never-never land still. Also: any typos or errors are 100% my bad.
The first chapter starts here
Chapter 4
Adam calls Tommy every four hours from his mom’s condo. He’s in love so he can’t help himself. Disguising it as making sure the apartment is okay doesn’t work. Even his mother isn’t fooled.
“You said that Tommy can play the guitar?”
Adam plays snippets from the practices on his iPhone for her.
“Is he nice?”
Adam shows her a buttload of photos on said iPhone.
“Oh, he’s cute!” She’s stirring cookie batter. For Adam. He loves visiting his mom; it’s like he doesn’t have to act grownup or anything when it’s just the two of them. “So tell me, dear, is this the one you’ve been mooning over?”
Adam sits up straighter on the counter stool. “Who said I’m mooning? I don’t moon.”
Leila smiles beatifically. “You think your mother doesn’t know?”
“Oh, Mom.” Adam lays his head on the counter and sighs melodramatically.
“You don’t call this mooning?” she asks, getting out cookies sheets and cooling racks.
Adam puts a bigger effort into moaning.
“If you start singing Tit Willow I’m going to whack you upside the head with this spatula.”
Adam snorts.
“Here, you spoon out the dough.” She hands him a spoon and turns on the oven, then pulls up a stool and sits next to him. “Tell me everything.”
So Adam spills out the story while he spoons out the dough. He does tell everything except Tommy’s offer, because he’s afraid she will think Tommy is a prostitute or something. Instead he tells her that Tommy isn’t in love with him.
“How can you be sure?”
“He as much as told me.”
“Because you told him that you are in love with him?”
“Kind of.”
“He doesn’t seem like he’d say something hurtful.”
“It wasn’t hurtful. Not on purpose. It was truthful. I’m not sure he’s gay.”
Leila nods. “Aha. Has he ever talked about a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“But then he’s been living on the streets.”
“Yeah.”
Leila puts her hand over Adam’s where it lies on the counter. “Adam, don’t take this the wrong way, but what if Tommy has, you know…”
“V.D.?” Adam snorts again. “I’m not sure he’s even had sex. He’s a total loner. He has one friend, a guy named Oracio who gives him work now and then. Far as I can tell, that’s it.”
“Maybe Oracio is his boyfriend?”
“Nope. I think if he could, they’d share an apartment as roommates, but Oracio still lives with his parents right down the street from Tommy’s parents.”
“Who sound like they’re running a strange and disturbing cult out of their house.”
“Yep.”
The oven dings to indicate that it’s heated up. Adam slides off his stool and puts a cookie sheet in the oven and sets the timer. He leans back against the counter and folds his arms. “How come I can’t find anyone, Mom?” he asks plaintively.
“Oh, honey.” Leila goes to him and gives him a big hug. Adam hugs her back.
“Am I not nice enough?”
“You are the nicest boy the world has ever known,” Leila insists. “You’ve had boyfriends.”
“But it never works out.”
“You’re not that old yet, Adam. Cut yourself some slack.” She pulls back and grips his forearms and looks him straight in the eye. “Are you sure you’re getting interested in the right men?”
Adam raises an eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me to stop chasing straight guys?”
“Got it in one,” she says, patting his arms and returning to the counter and setting out a fresh cookie sheet. “Come on, handsome, this dough isn’t going to spoon itself.”
* * *
The last call of the night he makes while tucked into the guest bed in the condo’s second bedroom. The lights are out and he dials from deep under the covers. San Francisco is a lot colder than Los Angeles.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” comes the soft voice.
“Are you having fun with your phone? Did you put in everybody’s phone number?”
“I did. Isaac showed me how.”
“Good for Isaac. What did you do today, baby?” It feels so intimate talking quietly in the dark like this. He wants to ask Tommy if he’s in bed, too - his bed - but he can’t do that. He’s the one who told Tommy there’d be no sex, so he has to watch out and not confuse Tommy.
“Um, me and Ashley went shopping at this place called Thrift Village.”
Adam laughs quietly. He knows the place well. He’s bought plenty of stuff there himself. He prefers the shops on Melrose but he can’t afford that all the time. “Did you find anything super chill?”
“Jeans and two tee-shirts,” Tommy answers.
Of course that’s what Tommy would buy.
There’s a soft tapping on the bedroom door and he hides the phone under the covers. “Come in.”
Leila leaves the door open a bit, the hallway light falling on the bed. She sits next to him and strokes his hair. “It’s wonderful having you here.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Adam says.
“What’s under there?” she asks, because of course she can see the glow of the phone through the blanket.
He drags it out and holds it up sheepishly. “Say hi to Tommy.”
Leila takes the phone with a fond smile at her son. “Hello, Tommy? This is Leila.”
Adam can hear the tinny little voice respond.
“Um, hi.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m good.”
“Adam tells me you are an amazing guitarist.”
“Um. Thank you.”
“One of these days I’m going to come down to Los Angeles when a concert is scheduled so I can hear this wonderful band in person.”
“Sure.”
Leila smiles. Adam can tell that she likes Tommy, even though he’s so hesitant. “I’m going to give you back to Adam, but I do think it’s time for sleeping now,” she says. “Good night, Tommy.”
“Good night,” Adam hears, and then the phone is back is his hand. “Is everything locked up tight?” he says into the phone.
“Mm-hmm,” Tommy answers. “I should hang up, right?”
“Till tomorrow. Good night. Sleep tight.”
He hears a final g’night and thumbs off the phone. When he looks up at his mother, she’s still smiling that sweet maternal smile. He feels tears pricking his eyes.
“Oh my beautiful baby boy,” Leila says. “You’re going to have a nice boy for yourself one of these days. You will.” She leans over to kiss his forehead. “I love you, Adam.”
“Love you, Mom,” Adam says.
The days go by and they don’t get easier. Tommy reports that he and the band are practicing like crazy and that Brian wants to record a new demo as soon as Adam is back. Something about submitting it to the gigantic festival in Texas, South by Southwest. He made some money, too: Oracio took him on another job, helping some people to move to a new house. It was a nice house, not too big but not that small, either. Adam can tell that Tommy was thinking about his own family house growing up, but whether that is good or bad, Adam can’t tell.
In spite of his anxiousness to get back to Los Angeles, Adam is happy for the time with Leila. On the morning he leaves, she holds onto him a long while on the sidewalk outside the condo building.
“Come visit soon,” Adam tells her.
He drives a lot faster than he should. He gets lucky - no accidents, no tickets. When he skids into his parking space at the apartment building, he leaves his overnight bag behind and clatters up the stairs and lets himself in. He’d forewarned Tommy by calling an hour in advance, and the apartment smells like pancakes and coffee. That’s kind of upside-down since it’s midafternoon, but who cares?
Not Adam, given that Tommy is standing there barefoot with a spatula in one hand and his new phone in the other, wearing a dark blue hoodie, a striped tee-shirt, and comfortably worn jeans. Adam slams the door behind him and crosses the room in three strides and envelopes Tommy in a bear hug.
“Did you have fun?” he asks. “In your own place?”
“Yes, Adam,” Tommy says, muffled against his chest. “I can’t breathe.”
Reluctantly Adam releases him. “You made pancakes for me?”
Tommy shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know how to make anything else.”
“I love pancakes! You and my mom are conspiring to fatten me up.”
Tommy moves into the kitchen to flip the pancakes. The coffee pot is brimful and a jar of real maple syrup is sitting on the counter. He pours himself a cup of coffee.
“Look what I got for two dollars,” Tommy says, pulling at his Frankenstein tee-shirt.
“You’re so stylin’,” Adam chortles, sipping the hot coffee.
And then he hears it. A scratching sound? Tommy looks worried.
“What’s that?” asks Adam. He follows the sound to the hall closet. Something is definitely in there, making scratching sounds. “Tommy! Is Rosemary’s baby in our apartment?”
Tommy stands in the hall, shifting from one foot to the other.
Carefully, Adam turns the doorknob.
“Um, Adam,” Tommy begins. Adam looks back at him. He doesn’t say anything else, though.
Adam opens the door and a tiny kitten scrambles out, skidding on the wood floor. Adam looks at Tommy again. “Tommy?” he asks, with a bit of displeasure this time. He dislikes cats. Dogs are okay. Cats aren’t.
“She was alone,” Tommy says.
“She can’t stay here!” Adam says. “I’m not a cat person.”
“Are you allergic to them?” Tommy asks. “You’re not, are you?”
“No, not allergic, I just don’t need a cat is all.” Adam stomps off to the living room, trying to see where the kitten got itself to. He finds the creature and picks it up. “Ouch,” he yelps when it digs sharp tiny claws into his hand. He goes to the front door and opens it.
“No!”
Adam turns back, surprised.
“You can’t put her back out there, she’ll die.”
“Okay, I won’t, but she has to go to the shelter.” Adam closes the door again.
Tommy takes the kitten from him and cuddles the tiny creature to his chest.
Adam exhales. “Come on, Tommy, you knew I wouldn’t be happy about this or you wouldn’t have tried to hide it in the closet.”
Tommy won’t look up at him. “No one wanted her,” he says softly, stroking the kitten’s dark fur. “She was by that stucco apartment building two blocks away, and this creep kicked her off the balcony.”
“Oh, Tommy.” Adam pushes Tommy’s bangs out of his eyes and lifts his chin. “But I can’t keep her. And Sophie’s allergic to cats.”
“Nobody wanted her,” Tommy repeats.
“Maybe she belongs to someone who’s looking for her right now.”
“There was a lady at the building who said she’s a stray and she just showed up a few days ago and no one came looking for her and no one put up any signs for her.”
“The shelter will find someone to adopt her,” Adam says, feeling guilty for his earlier outburst. Tommy was just trying to do something nice, which is one of the things that makes Adam love him even more.
“Nobody wanted her,” Tommy insists, staring at Adam.
Suddenly Adam gets it. He could smack himself upside the head.
Nobody wanted Tommy.
Then and there, Adam decides he’s going to become a cat person if it kills him.
Adam doesn’t do things by half measures, either. He’s all in. They get the litter box and food and water dishes out of the closet.
“What’s this shit?” Adam asks, hefting an open box of cat food. “Alley Cat? Who feeds their cat something called that?”
“It was the cheapest one,” Tommy says.
Adam’s in for a lot of virtual head-smacking in the future. He gets it. Tommy bought these things for the kitten from his own cash reserves. “You did great, Tommy. From now on, let’s get the highest quality food for her. She’s scrawny and she needs healthy shit.” He remembers the family dog from growing up and how his parents got the most nutritious brands. Hell, they fed the family dog better quality food than their own sons.
There’s no way the kitten is going to the Carpenters, given Sophie’s allergies, and Adam is afraid to be left alone with the creature, so Tommy stays over again, curled up on Adam’s big bed with the tiny kitten snuggled in his arms.
Adam wakes up hours later, on his makeshift bed of sofa cushions on the floor, with a purring weight on his own stomach. It’s worth it, though, because through the purring he can hear Tommy’s quiet, even breathing.
* * *
Isaac has a lead on two friends who need a third person to share their apartment in Panorama City. They’re musicians, too, so they will understand Tommy. Even though Tommy doesn’t make nearly enough money to truly share rent, they’re happy to have someone in the extra bedroom, even if he only splits in on utilities.
Ronette the tortoiseshell kitten moves there, too. Adam misses Tommy but breathes a sigh of relief, because he can moon pathetically around his apartment and whack off to thoughts of Tommy with no witnesses.
The band practices, creates a demo of three songs, renames itself five times, and gets a CD off to SXSW. They land three more local gigs. Adam scores the Pirate King role in a three-week run of Pirates of Penzance in a mid-sized Woodland Hills theater. He convinces them to hire Tommy as an apprentice stagehand. The pay is shit but they get to spend more time together. They even carpool; Adam picks him up and they go together.
“Tommy’s coming out of his shell,” Ashley remarks one day at the studio while she and Brian and Adam wait for Isaac and Tommy to stop messing with their guitars and amps and cables and drum stands and things.
Adam enthusiastically agrees. “Isn’t it amazing to see?”
“Dude can fucking play,” Brian says. “We got lucky.”
“He’ll be loyal, too,” Adam says.
Ashley squints playfully at Adam. “I think he’s loyal to you, Adam.”
“He likes all of us.”
“And we like him.”
“He wants to play music. He’ll be loyal to the band. It’s not just me, for fuck’s sake.”
Ashley just smiles beguilingly. “Uh huh, Adam, whatever you say.” She bumps fists with Brian.
Adam rolls his eyes.
“Can we go have lunch?” Tommy asks later, as Adam drives him home, having won the right by strong-arming Isaac in the parking lot. They take turns giving Tommy rides, especially Isaac and Ashley because they live in the Valley like Tommy does now.
“Of course. Where do you want to go?”
Tommy names a small restaurant. “I’m treating,” he says.
Adam’s about to refuse when he thinks of the look Tommy got when he paid his own way after the Baked Potato gig. “Thanks,” he says instead.
At the restaurant he orders something inexpensive, just a falafel wrap. He declines dessert but Tommy won’t have that, ordering a big slice of chocolate velvet cake to share.
“I’m fattening you up,” he announces.
Adam takes a bite of the cake and makes a big deal of moaning in ecstasy. “Am I not fat enough already for you?”
“You’re not fat,” says Tommy. “You’re perfect.”
Adam grins. “I’m perfect? I love you, Tommy Joe.”
Tommy ducks his head. That smile is still haunting the corners of his mouth. Adam wishes he knew what it would take to bring it out.
“I want to do something for Christmas,” Tommy says, looking up again, toying with his fork.
“You mean go to church?” Adam is confused.
“No way. I’m an atheist.”
“Oh.” Adam’s never been very religious. He’s more spiritual than anything.
“I can’t believe in that shit about some random God loving people when kids are living on the street and don’t have food or anywhere to sleep. So - there’s this mission on the Strip, they have Christmas dinner for people who don’t have a place to go. I want to help them this year.”
“That’s awesome, baby,” Adam says, feeling suddenly guilty about the chocolate cake.
“They used to feed me sometimes. They didn’t make me go to church or anything. Just a prayer before we ate and I didn’t have to say it, I could just be quiet for a minute.”
Adam grabs Tommy’s hand under the booth table and squeezes. “I’ll go with you and help.” He figures he could stand to learn more about how people less lucky than he is get by.
“I used to help with the dishes afterwards.”
“We can both do that.”
“And put together the trays and napkins and things to get ready before it starts.”
“Anything they need help with, we’ll do it.”
“Okay. Thanks. It’s just, they helped me. Like you help me.”
“Tommy, you don’t have to thank me all the time. I’m doing it out of pure selfishness.”
Tommy looks surprised. “You are?”
“Of course! I got an incredible friend, and the band got a great guitarist.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s good?”
“Very good, silly goose. And hey, why are you making me eat all this cake by myself? Dig in, for the love of all that’s holy.”
On the way to Panorama City they stop at a Ralph’s to pick up milk and microwaveable tacos and cat food. Adam grabs a bag of Science Diet for kittens.
“My treat,” he says firmly.
Tommy wants to get a new toy for Ronette. They have fun looking at the selection. Finally Tommy chooses a feathery thing on a sort of fishing pole. Adam grabs it.
“Let her Uncle Adam buy her a Hanukkah present.”
This means that Adam has to go inside the apartment to see the kitten. It’s a weekday afternoon and the apartment is all theirs, so the three of them play together on the floor, Adam and Tommy on hands and knees pretending to be cats. Ronette hisses a little at first. The feather toy changes her mind completely and she proves to have more stamina than either of them. When they’re finally tuckered out, Tommy curls up in a bar of sunlight that falls across the threadbare carpeting, the kitten nestled in the crook of his arm, and closes his eyes.
Adam leans back against the sofa, cataloguing everything about Tommy, and remembers the first time he saw him - skinny, ill-nourished, with circles under his eyes, not especially clean, wearing worn-out clothing. Now he’s wearing the jacket Adam gave him, he looks well-fed and healthy, his hair is shiny and clean, his skin smooth and flawless. I helped make that happen, Adam thinks happily. Even though Tommy’s becoming more confident, more open, he’s still a quiet person who enjoys time by himself. Now it’s his choice, though. So long as he loves spending time with Adam, which he clearly does, all is well in Adam’s world.
It occurs to him that Tommy feels similarly about Ronette, maybe. That he made a difference in the kitten’s life, that he loves to care for her. A wave of fondness washes over Adam. He crawls over to Tommy and wraps himself around the slight body so that they’re a little huddle of three. Even with eyes closed, Tommy’s not asleep, because that smile is hovering again. Adam presses his forehead against Tommy’s. The kitten objects to the movement and squeaks, stretches out a tiny arm and flexes her claws against Adam’s wrist, then settles back.
Adam drifts off in the bright afternoon languor.
He wakes suddenly. The bar of sunlight has moved. He’s still curled up with Tommy, but the kitten has disappeared. He hears her lapping water in the kitchen.
Tommy’s eyes are open; he’s watching Adam. Something amazing happens.
Tommy smiles.
It’s a tentative, scared thing, a bare lifting of the corners of his mouth. But there it is and it’s gorgeous.
“Hey,” Adam says quietly.
“Hey.”
He reaches out and pushes Tommy’s bangs off his forehead. It’s so amazing, the way Tommy has changed in a few months, as though he was sleepwalking through life until now. As though he was waiting all his life to become what he is now. Adam feels tears in the back of his eyes; he’s probably going to cry like a big baby. He’s always been ridiculously emotional at embarrassing moments. Early on, he learned to go with it. Leila always gave him permission; now he gives himself permission.
“You’re waking up,” he tells Tommy. “And the world is beautiful.”
“It is,” Tommy says solemnly.
Uh oh. “Are you going to thank me again?”
“Was. Won’t.”
“Good.”
“You did it for me, though. You woke me up.”
Adam grabs Tommy and squeezes hard. “No, you did it yourself. You came to the audition.”
“Can’t breathe,” mumbles Tommy.
Adam lets up and Tommy rolls away and rises to hands and knees. He looks at Adam another moment and, abruptly, leans down to plant a soft kiss on Adam’s cheek. Then he jumps up and darts off to the kitchen.
Adam sits up, cross-legged, dabs roughly at his eyes, and runs his hands through his hair. The kiss on his cheek is burning. He’s horribly jealous of the random roommates who share this apartment with Tommy. They get to see him sleepy-warm, just out of bed, or sitting around watching whatever straight guys watch on TV. Almost certainly, they don’t have the slightest appreciation of being favored with such a wonderful gift. He should have been brave and let Tommy stay in his apartment forever, litter box and all. It’s madness, he knows. But he wants it so badly.
He can’t have it, though, so he gets up and follows Tommy to the kitchen and hugs him gently from behind. When Tommy’s hands grip his briefly, he knows this will have to be enough.
On to Chapter 5