Colton swaggered up the steps. He was alone. He was taking the bait, as William had predicted he would.
Matt scrambled to take up a new position behind a double-sided row of bookshelves.
He peered through a gap in the books, waiting for Colton to emerge from the stairwell and approach the conference room.
Colton strode to the door. Spied through its narrow window, probably checking whether Paul was alone, as promised.
Paul wasn’t—alone, that is, but it looked that way. Paul sat at the little conference table, nervously cleaning his glasses.
Matt crept up behind Colton.
Colton squared his shoulders, reached for the knob, pushed open the door.
Matt rushed forward, shoved him inside, followed, and closed the door behind him.
Matt stood, blocking the exit.
Colton whirled around, glared at him.
“Hi Colton.” William emerged from the room’s shadowed corner.
Colton spun to face William.
William set a small wooden box on the conference table, then took a seat beside Paul. He gestured at the other side of the table. “We’re overdue for a little chat,” he said. “Take a seat.”
Colton crossed his arms. Remained standing. “Three fairies in one room? If you’re trying to intimidate me, it isn’t working.”
“Suit yourself,” William said. He reached for the little box and toyed with its latched lid.
The box was an antique-looking thing. Dark wood with carved, lighter wood inlays. It was maybe nine inches long, five inches wide, four inches deep. Matt guessed it to be the sort of box where Victorian ladies had stored keepsakes, but he had no idea what role it would play in this meeting. Only William knew that.
“Nana Vance kept her old love letters from Papa Vance in here,” William said. He caressed the box lovingly, still not opening it. “Sometimes, in the years after Papa Vance died, I’d see Nana sitting in her chair, re-reading his letters, crying.”
Colton sighed and took a seat at the table. “The women in your family are obviously overly sentimental, which explains a lot about you.”
William ignored the jibe, opened the box’s lid, and peered into it with sadness in his eyes. “Nana died when I was a sophomore in high school. That’s when this box became mine. I couldn’t wait to fill it with letters and cards from my lover.”
Colton fidgeted nervously. He glared at the little box.
“I had to wait two years before I got my first love letter,” William said. He rifled through the box’s contents, pulled out a Christmas card. He held the card up for them all to see the front image: Snow everywhere. On the ground. Falling from the sky. Two birds in the foreground, pecking at a seedball. The caption across the top read: “Find Love in the Little Things This Season.”
William scrunched his face in distaste. “We thought that was so funny, pecking at a seedball. Like it was our little inside joke about balls or something. Little balls. We were ghastly, but then we were only eighteen. And it was the tackiest time of the year.”
William opened the card. “It’s dated December 17, 1992.”
Matt grinned. He finally saw where this was headed.
William pointed at the handwriting. “Addressed to me. By name.”
William’s eyes scanned down the card, reading it. He stopped at the bottom, giggled, then read it aloud. “With all my cock and all my love!”
“Oh, look here,” William pointed towards the bottom of the card. “It’s signed by the fourth fairy sitting in this room! Imagine that!”
Colton jumped to his feet. His face was flushed. He pointed at the wooden box. “I want all ofthose!” he hissed.
Matt saw sweat glistening on the back of Colton’s neck. The guy’s fear was palpable. That card could do more than ruin him at MCU. He’d never get elected to the state legislature, much less Governor. Oklahomans hated fags almost as much as did the good Christians at MCU.
William snapped the box lid closed, kept hold of the seedball card. “This is all that’s on the table,” he said. “Literally and figuratively.”
