“I’ve been wondering why he seems sad as hell lately. It’s because you’ve been so caught up with getting the fuck out of here that he thinks you want to leave him,” Macon said.
“That’s ridiculous. He’s one of us. He knows that.”
“Listen, my dude, you gotta make this right.”
“Okay, but how?” I was starting to panic. What if I’d already fucked things up beyond repair?
“Ask him to dinner tonight. Take him somewhere nice. I know a little Italian bistro, very romantic. Let him order whatever he wants, dessert too. Don’t be cheap. And while you’re there, ask him to come with us. Make sure he knows he’s wanted.”
“I’ve never asked him on a date before,” I admitted, another fuck up on my part. I’d been so focused on finding his brother and keeping all of us out of trouble that I hadn’t done anything to make him feel special.
“No offense, but you kind of have tunnel vision for surviving,” Macon said. “I appreciate that about you, but surviving ain’t living, it’s just staying alive, you know what I mean?”
I gave him a blank look at that convoluted pearl of wisdom and he clapped my back heartily. “Fix this thing with our boy and get Kitten on the train to Promised Land.”
* * *
When we returnedto the dormitory, I found Kitten hanging with the girls in the laundry room, helping them wash, dry, and fold everything we’d need for our trip. How could he think he wasn’t wanted? He’d been with us every step of the way since we met nearly three months ago. Of course he was part of our tribe. He named us, for Chrissakes.
How could I possibly leave him behind?
“Hey, cutie, how was your day?” I asked as I sidled up behind him where he was folding clothes into neat little piles. I wrapped my arms around his waist, hooked my thumbs on his belt loops, and kissed the top of his head.
“Fine,” he said, hardly acknowledging me. Artemis gave me a look–she must have noticed the icy chill in the air–and I wondered if he’d said anything to her.
“I want to take you out to dinner tonight, sweetness, something special, so let’s go get cleaned up.”
“You do?” he asked as if it was out of the realm of possibility.
“Yep, I’ve got some money to burn, and I want to spend it on you.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously, while the girls smiled and nodded at him in encouragement. “Where will we go?” he asked as I hooked my arm around his shoulders to lead him away.
“A little Italian place around the corner. You like pasta?”
“I love pasta. And garlic bread. And meatballs.”
“How many meatballs can you fit in that tummy of yours?” I asked and poked his middle.
“A lot,” he said with a smile.
“I bet.”
“Mmmmm, I’m hungry already,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
One thing I knew about my guy, the way to his heart was through his stomach.
* * *
An hour or so later,we were both cleaned up and dressed in our city best. Kitten was sitting across from me with his hair still damp from the shower. The candlelight gave his warm brown skin a golden glow. Morning, afternoon, or night, I hadn’t found a light yet that didn’t flatter him. So soft and lovely, he had no idea the effect he had on me or those around him. Pure, as Ansel had said, but fierce too.
Looking over the menu, he tilted his head to one side and he said absently, “I know this song.”
I hadn’t even realized music was playing, but Kitten heard music wherever he went, and always commented on whether he knew the song or not, as if looking for some cultural touchstone to connect him with the rest of society after being in isolation for so long.
“Would you ever want to learn an instrument?” I asked. I could do more than simply keep him housed and fed. In the right environment–somewhere safe–I could help him discover his talents and pursue his interests.
“I’ve played around on a few instruments. I like the sound a guitar makes. You can feel it in your fingers and in your bones.”
