Page 71 of Pride High 2: Orange
“Could you get us a motel room?” Anthony dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “I have thirty-eight dollars. There’s a billboard on the way into town advertising rooms for that much.”
“If it’s the place I’m thinking of,” Charles said, “you’d be in for a memorable night, but not necessarily one that is special.”
“We’ll make it work,” Anthony said, refusing to be dissuaded. “I promise we won’t damage anything, or let anyone see us. You’d only have to show up to check in. And to let us inside.”
“No,” Charles said, already shaking his head. “Dear lord, I attract enough attention as it is! Could you image if someone saw me escorting two teenage boys into a seedy motel room? Absolutely not!”
“That’s okay,” Anthony said, forcing a smile. “I understand.”
“You have my sympathy, of course,” Charles said. “Love is often squeezed into the brief moments between demands and responsibilities. If anything, that makes it all the more precious. And while you won’t thank me for saying it, too much emphasis is placed on firsts. Christopher Columbus, for instance. Just because he made it here early doesn’t mean that he’s worth remembering. Although the thousands of people he enslaved must have found him difficult to forget.”
That was a timely reminder of what real problems were like. Charles was right. They would find some other way. Maybe when Cameron’s dad was out of town again, or they could both play sick on a school day and meet each other then. Anthony was making a big deal out of nothing and had intruded upon the limited privacy that Charles and his husband shared.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with any of this.”
“Nonsense,” Charles replied. “Who else can you turn to about such things? I’m more than happy to offer what advice I can, although I must do so cautiously. I have more than just myself to think of.”
Anthony hurriedly drank the rest of his tea, despite how hot it was. He’d need the warmth on the bike ride home. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time,” he said as he stood.
“Please don’t leave yet,” Charles said. “I have a favor of my own that I’d like to ask. In fact, it might be beneficial to us both, since you seem low on Christmas funds.”
“I definitely am,” Anthony said as he sat back down.
“Excellent! It just so happens that Lover Boy is whisking me away to sunny Key West for the holidays. I’d enjoy myself more while there if I knew the house was being tended to. I don’t suppose you’d mind stopping by while I’m gone? You could turn on a few lights, collect the mail, and all those little things that keep burglars away. And you could deal with unforeseen events. I once returned home from vacation to find the basement had flooded, so it’s prudent to take extra precautions.” Charles cleared his throat delicately. “Please understand that, despite having the run of the place, you wouldn’t be invited to stay the night here or have anyone else over. Not that I would ever know. In fact, I don’t plan on worrying about that aspect at all. Oh! I do like coming home to fresh sheets on the bed, if you don’t mind doing a little laundry. I’d compensate you for all of this. In advance.”
Anthony stared at him. Charles had a great poker face. There wasn’t even a mischievous glint in his eye. Which was perfect, because if anyone found out that he and Cameron were staying here, Anthony could claim in total honesty that Charles was unaware and hadn’t granted him permission. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“Thankyou,” Charles replied. “Now then, I believe there is still a slice of my cherry crumble pie in the fridge. That should provide you with enough energy for the journey home, if you don’t mind chatting a little longer first.”
“Not at all!” Anthony would have been thrilled to stay even if he wasn’t getting something in return. He really liked Charles. Hell, he practically loved him now, because the wonderful human being had just saved Christmas. Instead of a crappy motel room, Anthony would give Cameron the gift of staying in his dream house. And everything else that they had promised each other.
* * December 21st, 1992 * *
Omar stood in the auditorium, peering through the viewfinder of his camera while filming students on stage who were dressed like random things you’d find in your kitchen. So freaking weird. Even if the footage didn’t make the cut for the video yearbook, it might be useful as blackmail, because the actors sure looked ridiculous. Except for Whitney, who was smoking hot in her dress as she rushed around the stage interacting with everyone.
“What do you think?” asked a familiar voice.
He lowered the camcorder to find Cameron standing next to him. He was eyeing the stage critically, so Omar turned his attention to it as well.
“The set is top notch, my man,” he replied. “It really feels like the interior of a castle. Where can I get some of those crazy candle holders with the electric flames? They’d look cool in my room.”
“The candelabras?”
Omar shrugged. “You tell me. And hey, that table is huge! How’d you get it on stage?”
Cameron grinned sheepishly. “It’s three sheets of plywood and a bunch of cardboard held together with Kraft tape. I keep reminding people not to lean on it, because it can’t bear much weight.”
“Wow, you really know your stuff.”
“Thanks. I can give you a tour of everything, if you want to get some close-up footage. That’s why you’re here, right? Anthony mentioned that you’re working on some sort of video yearbook.”
“Yeah!” Omar followed him down the aisle toward the stage. They climbed right on to it in the middle of a scene, but nobody seemed to mind. He got some great shots of the actors working together. Which was perfect, because at this rate, he wouldn’t need to show up for the actual play. Having to return to school at night sounded like the worst kind of hell to him. And yet, everyone here would do so willingly. In front of an audience. Whitney twirled for him when she noticed the camera. He filmed her rehearsing a scene with a couple of girls dressed like cutlery before the teacher shouted, “Scene change!”
“That’s me,” Cameron said before launching into action.
Along with a bunch of other students, he folded up the table, hauled it off stage, and ran back to grab the chairs and other set pieces. He kept hustling once the stage was clear, rolling out a cartful of trees that he clustered around a fake stone bench. Bundles of flowers were placed in the middle. Omar mostly focused on Cameron while filming this, knowing that Anthony would get off on seeing the footage later.
“No wonder you’re in such good shape,” Omar said when he returned sweaty and panting.
