Page 1 of Angel

CHAPTER

ONE

RHYS

Stepping off the subway in Staten Island always feels like I’ve walked through the looking glass. On this side, I’m not Rhys Rawlings, pole dancer and camboy extraordinaire. Instead, I regress to Ricky Gallo, the scrawny, flamboyant gay boy from down the street.

I’ve even dressed the part. Jeans—ugh. And a t-shirt—double ugh. At least the jeans hug my ass like a second skin and my t-shirt sports a cute rainbow unicorn. Not that I expect anyone from the old neighborhood to appreciate the ’fit. The people I grew up with aren’t the most… trendy.

I hightailed it out of here the first chance I got and I only come back when absolutely necessary. Like for Dad’s sixtieth birthday party.

I was tempted not to come. It’s not like anyone will really miss me anyway.

I don’t remember the last time I had a real conversation with my dad, and my mom only calls when she needs something from me. My brother, Nico, and I get along pretty well, but he’s always busy with his wife and kids. They have their own lives here that I’m not really a part of. And I haven’t kept in touch with anyone else in the old neighborhood. There’s never been any reason to.

It’s about a twenty-minute walk from the subway station to the house where I grew up. Nico offered to come pick me up, but I need the extra time to psych myself up for the party.

I can hear it from a block away. Music floats over yards and rooftops. Voices mix with barks of laughter and parents shouting at kids. It sounds like the entire neighborhood’s turned out for the big event. I wouldn’t be surprised. The Gallos have been a part of this tight-knit community for generations.

I stop right before turning the corner onto my parents’ street, gripping the strap of my crossbody bag tightly.

I can do this. I can totally do this. It’s only for a couple hours. Just grin and bear it—like I’m performing on stage or on camera. Then I can escape back to Brooklyn and my real life.

I suck in a deep breath and turn the corner. The party sounds are about ten times louder. Cars line both sides of the small residential street, and people spill out the front door onto the driveway and lawn. I was wrong—they didn’t just invite the entire neighborhood, they’ve invited the entire freaking city.

“Hey, little Ricky!” Someone shouts my name when I’m still three houses away.

I can’t tell who it is, but I recognize the group of men standing in the middle of the driveway. They’re my brother’s friends, guys we both grew up with, all a few years older than me.

“Hey.” I greet them with a wave, then brace myself as I’m dragged into their circle and passed around for hugs. It’s not the way most people like me would’ve been greeted by people like them. But I’m lucky. Nico’s always been protective of me, and so, by extension, have all of his friends. It’s the only reason I didn’t get bullied growing up—it helps having the entire football team watching your back.

Although, I’ve always wondered if they see me less as Nico’s kid brother and more like a defenseless little pet. The way they toss me around and pat me on the head makes me think it’s probably the latter.

“How you doing, Ricky?”

“Hey, welcome home, kid.”

“Good to see ya, it’s been a while.”

“Good to see you guys, too.” I can’t help laughing at their enthusiasm.

They’re good guys, even if I’ve never had a single thing in common with them. Even if they’d have a collective heart attack if they found out what I do for a living. I might not like coming home much, but I have to admit this warm greeting is nice.

I’ve worked my way through their makeshift obstacle course when someone says, “Nico and your parents are in the back.”

“Thanks!” I venture inside. What are the chances I can sneak through the house and find my parents without getting stopped by some auntie or uncle? Absolutely zero.

“Ricky!”

“Look at you! Oh my lord, you’re all grown up now!”

“Cute shirt!”

“Whatcha up to these days?”

“What the hell is he wearing?”

“You need to visit your ma and pa more often.”

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