Page 29 of The Baritone's Rival

“After what?” Of course, Oscar would ask.

Trent sighed. “Well?—”

“I’m from Vermont,” Justin chimed in again, “which isn’t really like Wisconsin…”

“Not even a little,” Trent heard Oscar mutter under his breath.

“...but it’s pretty sparsely populated, too, and it was such a jolt of energy coming into the city for the first time. I loved it! I never want to go back to New England. I mean, Boston’s a big city, but it’s nothing like New York, it’s a totally different vibe, and?—”

“Yes.” Oscar’s voice was firm, clearly trying to get Justin to stop talking babbling. It didn’t work.

“Besides, if you’re going to stay in the Midwest, what, are you going to live in Chicago? Chicago’s got great food and all, but it doesn’t have the culture of New York, or the diversity, or the bagels and cream cheese, even as a vampire I can’t keep myself from the bagels, I just love an everything with veggie cream cheese?—”

“So. Trent.” Oscar was louder now. This time, Justin shut up. Trent chuckled inwardly at Oscar’s frustration with the excitable vamp.

“Mm?”

“Have you ever been to Maine?”

“Oh. No. Closest I’ve been is Boston, for an audition. My safety school was there.”

“Well, that’s not like Maine at all.” Justin was off to the races once more. “Where I grew up in Vermont is more like Maine, I think. I’ve been to Maine a few times. Although Maine has coastline so it has more lobstermen and seafood and stuff like that. But it also forests and lakes like Vermont. Although I think it’s flatter on the whole, growing up, my mom always wanted to go to Bar Harbor or York for vacations, she loved the ocean, and?—”

“Let’s not talk anymore.” Oscar gripped the wheel of the car tightly. He was doing a poor job of masking his frustration. Trent smiled at Oscar’s annoyance. For some reason, he liked it when they were both annoyed at someone together.

“Okay.” Justin’s tone was oblivious.

Oscar sighed as he turned onto 278, his foot pushing down on the accelerator as he finally had the freedom to go faster. Trent stared out the window, watching the buildings of Williamsburg fly by as they headed north. And there they were, out of Brooklyn.

“Will you turn on music?” Oscar asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if he was worried that any audible noise would get Justin started again.

“Sure,” Trent answered.

“My phone’s connected to the car stereo. Put on whatever you want.”

Trent reached down and picked up Oscar’s phone from the cup holder. The wallpaper was a picture of him with Freddie and Anthony posing in front of Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. The angel loomed over them, a strange celestial protector of the three demons standing in front of her.

It was like a photo from a family vacation. Oscar was at ease, comfortable and relaxed between the coven master and his mate.

“What’s the code?” Trent asked.

“Seven seven four nine.”

Trent opened up Oscar’s playlists, which were…eclectic. There was opera, of course, but also ‘80s rock, hip-hop, and a truly astonishing number of gay dance songs and drag queen bitch tracks.

Trent settled on an old Ella Fitzgerald jazz album. The singer’s warm, sweet tone always helped Trent relax.

He sighed, allowing himself to float away on her supple voice, losing track of time as the music washed over him, and before he knew it, they had left the city and were entering New Rochelle. From the back seat came the sound of gentle snoring. Justin had fallen asleep.

He must have looked confused, because Oscar answered the question before he asked it.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he said, keeping his voice low, “but Justin can nap at the drop of a hat. Vampires are supposed to need way less sleep, so I don’t know what his deal is. But I’ve never known a vamp to sleep as much as he does.”

Trent hummed in response. “Are you and he…?”

Why the hell had he asked that? He didn’t need to know more about Oscar’s personal life.

“Oh, no, absolutely not.”

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