1. Rosey
“Those monkey cages aren’t going to clean themselves, are they, Vince?”
Vince looked at his supervisor, who was busy throwing peanuts in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth (with roughly a 20% success rate). There was no point in arguing. Howard Moon was a master of debate. Any time Vince tried to question why he had to do all the menial labor himself, Howard would launch into one of his endless speeches. Vince invariably lost focus halfway through and ended up somehow agreeing that it was important that he, and only he, completed the most difficult tasks at the zoo.
It also wasn’t worth arguing, because the monkeys hated Howard and had a fit when he was in their cage. Howard could be a bit of a dick, but Vince didn’t want to see the monkeys rip his face off and eat it (as they so often threatened when Howard came near). Most of the animals were not fond of Howard. Howard was pompous, bossy, obnoxious, lazy and shifty-eyed and those were qualities that turned off both man and beast.
But not Vince. Vince liked Howard. The old man was funny in his way, and unlike most of the ‘adults’ in Vince’s life, Howard wasn’t worried about what Vince did or didn’t wear. The first time he’d dared to wear lip gloss to work, he’d been afraid of Howard’s reaction. Howard had ended up stealing the gloss because it was peach-flavored. He’d sat on a bench, applying and licking off Vince’s lip gloss, while Vince gave the honey badgers a bath. Howard was a scruffy mess, but it didn’t seem to be attached to any particular views of manliness. Vince was used to people making a big fuss about how he dressed or did his hair or makeup, but Howard only cared that Vince worked hard (so that Howard didn’t have to).
Xxx
Vince took the longest and hottest shower the Keeper Hut shower allowed, but it wasn’t enough. The smell of monkey was in his skin. He wrapped his hair in a towel and put on a fresh uniform. It was one of Howard’s old uniforms, apparently from before his ‘growth spurt.’ Howard swore he’d grown five inches in one summer.
“It was like a nightmare, Vince,” Howard had reminisced in his grandest tone. “I would wake up and my pajamas wouldn’t fit any more. I thought I would never stop growing. Yes, sir, Vince. I was planning for a life in a freak show. And Tommy always told me that the ladies only liked short, stocky men, so I was desperate to stop growing.”
The uniform was still a little long on Vince, but not as ridiculous as one of Howard’s current uniforms would have been. Howard towered over Vince, and he was all leg. Vince rolled the bottom of the trousers up so they didn’t hang under his feet. The uniforms hadn’t changed since Howard was Vince’s age (which Vince reckoned must have been thirty years ago), so Vince planned to take the uniform home and tailor it to fit correctly, so he’d have a backup. Howard had a theory that the Zooniverse hadn’t purchased any new uniforms since the seventies, and that was why Bob Fossil was so stingy about handing them out.
He didn’t have any styling products, so Vince pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He looked at himself in the mirror and shuddered. He felt precariously close to becoming the next Howard Moon. He’d have to start keeping products in his locker for emergencies.
Vince felt dejected as he walked back out into the zoo in his borrowed clothing. He shuffled along and stared at his feet and only looked up when he heard a gasp. He lifted his head and saw a tall and elegant older man. He was wearing a perfectly tailored cream suit with a pocket square. He looked like classy business man, or maybe a gangster pretending to be a business man. Either way, he looked like the richest person Vince had ever seen in real life. His hair was slicked straight back, but the perfect arrangement of little curls at the back of his neck promised that it was an expensive haircut.
“Remarkable.” The man spoke with a vague accent that Vince could not place.
Vince shifted uncomfortably under the older man’s stare. He wanted to hide in his borrowed uniform.
“Do you know Bauer? The great surrealist artist?” the man asked.
Vince’s mouth went dry, but he was able to stammer out, “Like Dali?”
“No! Not like Dali! Dali was not the only surrealist artist. There were other great men, greater men…” The man abruptly clamped down on his feelings and said, “Yes. Like Dali. But better.”
Vince shook his head. He’d loved art class, but he’d never been good at remembering which artist was which. He had once been told that he was a visual thinker. He preferred that to what he was usually told, which was that he was dim.
“He was… remarkable.”
There was something terribly sad about the man’s face in that moment, and it hurt Vince to look at him.
“Did you know him?” Vince asked.
The older man looked deep into Vince’s eyes, like he was trying to see directly into Vince’s soul. Vince wilted under the gaze, but desperately wanted the man to find something worth seeing.
“I would like to paint you,” the older man said, suddenly cool and composed. “I’ll pay generously for your time.”
Vince tried to stand up straight, but the dapper man’s posture was so erect and perfect, Vince still felt like he was slouching.
“Paint me? A portrait, or…”
“Yes, a portrait,” the man snapped. “I don’t want to actually paint on you, although… No. I want a portrait.”
“Of me?” Vince asked, completely confused but oddly thrilled.
“No. Not of you. But you’ll be a perfect model.”
Vince’s feelings were hurt by the statement, but the sadness had returned to the man’s face. Vince would have done anything to cheer him up.
“Sure. I haven’t got much on.”
Xxx
Vince had no idea how to dress for a modeling gig. He tried asking Howard, but that just led to a lecture about the finer points of Howard’s face and physique. Vince wondered if it was something Howard had learned from Tommy, to tell people he was handsome rather than leaving them to make their own decisions. Vince had seen pictures of Tommy, and Tommy had been a big-headed freak that only Howard could call a “handsome man.” Tommy had needed to confuse people if he’d wanted to pass his cheese-like head off as appealing, but Howard was normal enough. His bragging only made people look for flaws in his appearance.
Vince settled on a simple white t-shirt and jeans, with only a touch of eyeliner and lip gloss. He wore his hair back in a ponytail, since Rosey had seemed keen on the style. It looked weird, but it helped Vince pretend he was playing a role. He wasn’t a scared kid trying to figure out how to model; he was Vince Noir: ponytailed modeling star.
Rosey’s work space was a warmer and friendlier place than Vince had expected. The walls were a soft pink and the floor was a blond hardwood. In the middle of the room was a stool.
Rosey was still natty looking in his painting smock. He greeted Vince with tea and biscuits and showed him around the studio. There were pictures of Rosey when he’d been young, apparently with the infamous Bauer. Rosey had been fit in his youth. He’d already had the austere grace of his elderly self, but there was something about those photos that excited Vince. There was a magnetism to Rosey and a promise that something wild lurked beneath his polished exterior.
Bauer was a strange-looking man with a sharp and bony face, emphasized by a severe ponytail. He was handsome in an odd sort of way. Vince was not offended to be compared to Bauer, but he wasn’t exactly flattered.
“He was the most remarkable man,” Rosey said softly, and when Vince turned to look at him, Rosey’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Irreplaceable.”
Vince wanted to make Rosey happy. He wanted it with his whole heart.
“How should I pose?” Vince asked. He was eager to please Rosey and ease his sadness if possible. Vince had yet to lose someone he loved, and Rosey’s pain seemed unfathomable.
“There’s a robe behind the screen. You can fully disrobe, or you can leave on whatever you like until you begin to feel foolish and decide to pose fully nude.”
Vince’s stomach flipped, but Rosey looked bored. It was obvious from his speech that he was accustomed to working with inexperienced models. While Vince was hesitant to get his kit off, it had little to do with Rosey, who seemed to be all business. Vince ended up removing all of his clothing, but he wrapped the robe tightly around himself.
“Should I sit on the stool?” Vince asked as he nervously shuffled out from behind the privacy screen.
“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable,” was Rosey’s only response. He was already busy mixing paints. Looking around the room, Vince got the impression that Rosey worked with a variety of media, from paint to what appeared to be actual crabs. Vince had only ever been good at drawing when he’d been a kid. He wanted to watch Rosey at work, but instead, he sat on the stool and waited for further instruction.
Vince kept his robe on, but Rosey seemed unconcerned. He stared at Vince and held up his brush like he was measuring Vince’s height and width, but he didn’t speak a word. Vince looked around the room and tried to find something to entertain him so he could sit still, but everything he saw filled him with questions. He wondered if Rosey was going to paint him so he looked like Bauer, or if he was just going to make Vince look all weird and distorted like some of the paintings on the wall. Nothing in the studio was ‘normal.’ Everything was strange in one way or another. It made Vince want to take up drawing again.
“Was Bauer a painter like you?” he asked after an eternity of silence.
“Bauer was a remarkable painter, but he preferred more dynamic art forms. He was a visionary.”
Vince let another eternity go by.
“Was he your boyfriend?”
Rosey stood behind his easel and out of Vince’s sight and said, “He was my partner in every way.”
Vince had always thought “partner” was a cold term to use to describe a lover, but when Rosey said it, it sounded powerful. Vince tried to imagine himself with a partner “in every way,” someone with whom he could share everything. He couldn’t fathom what she would look like.
When Rosey remained hidden behind his easel, Vince removed his robe. He pulled his legs up so his bits were basically covered, but he sat naked on the stool and tried to look like a visionary.
Rosey sighed sadly before returning to work. He made no acknowledgment of Vince’s state of undress; he just went back to painting.
Xxx
Vince tried to adjust his position, only to realize too late that his leg was asleep. He wobbled for a moment before crashing to the floor. He hit his elbow hard and hissed in pain. The pain was so intense that he gave no thought to modesty as Rosey tended to him with an ice pack.
“This happen a lot?” Vince asked, honestly curious about why Rosey had the ice pack at the ready.
Rosey smiled wanly.
“Surrealism comes with its bumps and bruises.”
Vince laughed. “You sound like my supervisor at the zoo. ‘Young Vince, you’ll find the zookeeper’s life is full of risk and danger…’ Sorry. He’s a bit mental.”
Rosey nodded, but Vince wasn’t sure he’d heard a word. Rosey’s eyes were traveling over Vince’s body with something more than artistic appreciation. Vince felt himself flushing all over, but he made no effort to cover himself. Other than having a girlfriend for two days when he’d been thirteen, Vince’s love life had been nearly nonexistent. He was already closer to seventeen than sixteen, and he’d never gone farther than a kiss.
Vince wasn’t so much attracted to Rosey as to Rosey’s attention. He wanted the desire in Rosey’s eyes to stay focused on his body. He’d attracted Rosey’s attention by looking like someone else, but it was clear that Rosey was finally truly looking at Vince. It was an old man’s hand on Vince’s shoulder, but the fingers were long and elegant. Vince could tell how Rosey held a pen and how he held a brush from the calluses on his otherwise delicate hands. Vince thought of the word ‘intimate’ in a new light.
Vince’s chest tightened as Rosey stroked his hair.
“His hair was turning white when I lost him,” Rosey mused. “It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful.”
Vince wondered if he was beautiful, but he couldn’t be selfish in the face of Rosey’s depth of feeling. It was Rosey’s moment.
Vince stayed still as Rosey moved a hand to his shoulder and then to his chest.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Rosey asked in a breathy voice that made Vince twitch below the waist. He’d never heard the voice of arousal in person before. Even from someone who looked like his grandfather, it was enticing.
“It’s nice,” Vince whispered.
Rosey chuckled softly. “The uncomplicated joys of youth.”
Vince didn’t ask any questions; he just closed his eyes as Rosey wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock. Rosey knew what he was doing, and his hand was soft and sure as he stroked. Vince leaned back against Rosey, ignoring the wet paint against his back. When Rosey wrapped his free arm across Vince’s chest, Vince grabbed on to the arm with both hands and came. The orgasm hit him suddenly and shook his whole body. He was about to apologize for the mess when Rosey pressed a kiss to his cheek and called him a beautiful boy.
Vince’s mind was blown, but Rosey was in full command of his senses as he cleaned Vince up and steered him back to the now-absurd privacy screen to get dressed. Vince didn’t hear a word Rosey said, only the calm and kind tone that told him everything was fine. The only time Rosey seemed less than Buddha-like in his calm was when he filled Vince’s hand with Euros.
“Does that seem like enough?” Rosey asked.
“You could give me a lot less than this,” Vince answered honestly. “I just sat on a stool and, well, made a mess on your floor.”
Rosey laughed and added a few more bills. As Vince left, he caught a glimpse of Rosey’s easel. The canvas was covered in doodles with splashes of color. Vince recognized his fidgeting poses and was impressed by how his nervous energy came across even in the most basic outline. He also recognized the way the doodles stood as scaffolding for the real drawings. Later, Rosey would build his Bauers on those Vince skeletons.
“Was it worth it?” Vince asked before he had time to think better of it.
“I beg your pardon?” Rosey looked baffled, and there were tears shining in his eyes.
“Loving someone that much. Is it worth it?”
Rosey gave Vince a tight smile as he composed himself.
“I wouldn’t sacrifice a minute I had with him. If I could sacrifice one memory and lose a year’s worth of pain…” Rosey teared up again, and his voice was rough with emotion as he continued. “Love is worth it, young man.”
“I’m called…”
“Let’s leave it at ‘young man.’”
Xxx
Vince felt like an alien in his own skin. Everything was the same, and yet he had changed forever. Apparently, he’d had a sexual awakening without ever realizing he was asleep. He’d left his uniform at the zoo, so he was forced to wear Howard’s. He’d tailored it to his exact measurements and it looked brilliant. The only problem was his painful awareness that he was wearing another man’s clothing. His bits were being covered by material that had covered Howard’s bits, and it was entirely too intimate for a Thursday morning.
Which was why he dropped a bag of feed when Howard greeted him.
“Bit jumpy,” Howard observed. “Rough night?”
Vince couldn’t look at him. He tried to act normal as he cleaned up the feed, but he no longer remembered how a person was supposed to move about. He knew he was in trouble when Howard knelt down to help him instead of folding his arms and watching.
“You all right, Little Man?” Howard asked.
Vince felt dizzy.
Let’s leave it at ‘young man.’
“You’ve gone all white, Vince. Did you eat candy for breakfast again?”
Howard’s familiar face had been made strange by his unexpected show of concern and Vince’s sudden awareness that Howard was a man. He was, at least in theory, a sexual being. He had a mouth that had probably kissed a few women, and not just on their mouths.
Howard shoved his hands under Vince’s armpits and lifted him to his feet like he was a child.
“Have a seat before you pass out.”
Vince slouched on the bench while Howard put a wet flannel on the back of his neck.
“So, what’s her name, then?” Howard asked in a jovial tone.
Vince asked “Who?” and immediately saw his mistake. Howard’s smallish eyes widened slightly.
“So what’s his name, then?”
Vince covered his face with his hands and waited to actually die of embarrassment.
“Joey Moose said he saw you exchanging information with an older man. Said he was posh.”
Vince wondered if he was having a nightmare. Howard wore a ‘fox bummer’ sign on his back at least twice a month without noticing, but suddenly he was Sherlock Holmes.
“Did something happen that you didn’t want to happen?” Howard asked in a tone so soft and gentle, it would have made a soap bubble seem abrasive in comparison. Tears were stinging Vince’s eyes.
“No,” Vince whispered as he willed the tears to recede. “Nothing like that.”
Vince lost it when Howard put his hand on Vince’s shoulder. His supervisor never touched him.
“Because boys can say no, too, you know. Men can say no. A married woman tried to kiss me once, and I said no. I’ve regretted it every single day since, but that’s… that’s not really relevant to this conversation. What I’m trying to say is, if you don’t like something, you don’t have to do it. You don’t owe anything to anyone.”
Vince felt guilty for not defending Rosey. Rosey hadn’t done a thing that Vince hadn’t enjoyed, and he didn’t regret the encounter at all. He wasn’t sure why he felt so delicate and brittle, but he really wanted Howard to take care of him. He wanted Howard to tell him what to do and make everything feel normal again.
Vince had had the occasional thoughts about men, but he’d never thought he might be bisexual. He could never imagine himself with a man, and now he’d gotten off with a man old enough to be his grandfather. Maybe it was the money that was making him feel so off about the experience. In the light of day, it seemed more like a scene from a classy porn than reality. It would have felt like prostitution, but Vince knew no one would pay that much just to give him a handy. If that ever seemed like a viable career option, Vince would definitely quit the zoo and become a prossie.
“I just modeled for him. He was talking about his lover that died, and it was well sad…” Vince couldn’t possibly articulate the pain he’d seen in Rosey. He didn’t know a word to covey that kind of pain.
Howard gave Vince a one-armed hug and spoke quietly into Vince’s ear.
“I don’t mean to meddle, Little Man. I know you don’t have family, and I feel like I should look out for you, make sure people don’t take advantage of you.”
“You make me do your work all the time,” Vince pointed out. His tried to sound cheeky, but his voice cracked. He couldn’t quite stop crying.
“Exactly. I know how easy it is to take advantage of you, and I don’t want to see anyone else trying it.” Howard looked stern but his eyes were twinkling. “I’m your supervisor. I take my responsibility seriously.”
“Thanks, Howard.”
He literally cried on Howard’s should until Fossil came by and called them names. When he was done crying, he felt better. His encounter with Rosey had been strange, but it had also been exciting and a hell of a better story than getting drunk and feeling someone up on a couch. Vince had basked in the reflected glow of a great love, and it was beautiful. Vince wanted to fall in love. He also wanted another hand job.
After work, Howard took Vince to a chippy, where they laughed for hours about Bob Fossil. Vince wanted to set Howard straight about what had happened with Rosey, but he hated to ruin the mood. Howard was drunk and giggly, and Vince wanted to enjoy his supervisor’s bonhomie.
“Do you reckon he sleeps in curlers like my mum?” Howard asked. “How else would he get those curls? My hair doesn’t do that.”
“Your hair clings to your head like it has a fear of heights,” Vince agreed. “I like when it gets long and the curls in the back start reaching out, like they’re trying to escape.”
Howard laughed, but he looked self-conscious as he ran a hand through his lank hair. It occurred to Vince that not only was Howard a man with the ability to have sex, Howard was a man who could conceivably be a sexual partner for Vince. As bizarre and outlandish as the idea was, it was possible that Vince and Howard could end up having sex. The thought blew Vince’s mind.
“All right there, Little Man?” Howard asked as he tried to prop his wobbly head on his hand.
Vince tugged at Howard’s sleeve, and Howard’s head nearly hit the table. Vince squealed his apologies, but Howard couldn’t stop laughing.
That night, Vince thought about how Howard had long fingers like Rosey. It was hard to think of Howard in sexual terms, but when Vince thought of Howard laughing until he turned red and tears formed in his eyes, it didn’t seem like such a crazy idea. He could imagine the ways it might be nice to touch Howard, but he could also imagine how Howard would boss him around and try to play jazz while they did it. Howard Moon was not Vince’s Bauer. Or his Rosey. He wasn’t sure which he was looking for.
Vince looked at his supervisor, who was busy throwing peanuts in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth (with roughly a 20% success rate). There was no point in arguing. Howard Moon was a master of debate. Any time Vince tried to question why he had to do all the menial labor himself, Howard would launch into one of his endless speeches. Vince invariably lost focus halfway through and ended up somehow agreeing that it was important that he, and only he, completed the most difficult tasks at the zoo.
It also wasn’t worth arguing, because the monkeys hated Howard and had a fit when he was in their cage. Howard could be a bit of a dick, but Vince didn’t want to see the monkeys rip his face off and eat it (as they so often threatened when Howard came near). Most of the animals were not fond of Howard. Howard was pompous, bossy, obnoxious, lazy and shifty-eyed and those were qualities that turned off both man and beast.
But not Vince. Vince liked Howard. The old man was funny in his way, and unlike most of the ‘adults’ in Vince’s life, Howard wasn’t worried about what Vince did or didn’t wear. The first time he’d dared to wear lip gloss to work, he’d been afraid of Howard’s reaction. Howard had ended up stealing the gloss because it was peach-flavored. He’d sat on a bench, applying and licking off Vince’s lip gloss, while Vince gave the honey badgers a bath. Howard was a scruffy mess, but it didn’t seem to be attached to any particular views of manliness. Vince was used to people making a big fuss about how he dressed or did his hair or makeup, but Howard only cared that Vince worked hard (so that Howard didn’t have to).
Xxx
Vince took the longest and hottest shower the Keeper Hut shower allowed, but it wasn’t enough. The smell of monkey was in his skin. He wrapped his hair in a towel and put on a fresh uniform. It was one of Howard’s old uniforms, apparently from before his ‘growth spurt.’ Howard swore he’d grown five inches in one summer.
“It was like a nightmare, Vince,” Howard had reminisced in his grandest tone. “I would wake up and my pajamas wouldn’t fit any more. I thought I would never stop growing. Yes, sir, Vince. I was planning for a life in a freak show. And Tommy always told me that the ladies only liked short, stocky men, so I was desperate to stop growing.”
The uniform was still a little long on Vince, but not as ridiculous as one of Howard’s current uniforms would have been. Howard towered over Vince, and he was all leg. Vince rolled the bottom of the trousers up so they didn’t hang under his feet. The uniforms hadn’t changed since Howard was Vince’s age (which Vince reckoned must have been thirty years ago), so Vince planned to take the uniform home and tailor it to fit correctly, so he’d have a backup. Howard had a theory that the Zooniverse hadn’t purchased any new uniforms since the seventies, and that was why Bob Fossil was so stingy about handing them out.
He didn’t have any styling products, so Vince pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He looked at himself in the mirror and shuddered. He felt precariously close to becoming the next Howard Moon. He’d have to start keeping products in his locker for emergencies.
Vince felt dejected as he walked back out into the zoo in his borrowed clothing. He shuffled along and stared at his feet and only looked up when he heard a gasp. He lifted his head and saw a tall and elegant older man. He was wearing a perfectly tailored cream suit with a pocket square. He looked like classy business man, or maybe a gangster pretending to be a business man. Either way, he looked like the richest person Vince had ever seen in real life. His hair was slicked straight back, but the perfect arrangement of little curls at the back of his neck promised that it was an expensive haircut.
“Remarkable.” The man spoke with a vague accent that Vince could not place.
Vince shifted uncomfortably under the older man’s stare. He wanted to hide in his borrowed uniform.
“Do you know Bauer? The great surrealist artist?” the man asked.
Vince’s mouth went dry, but he was able to stammer out, “Like Dali?”
“No! Not like Dali! Dali was not the only surrealist artist. There were other great men, greater men…” The man abruptly clamped down on his feelings and said, “Yes. Like Dali. But better.”
Vince shook his head. He’d loved art class, but he’d never been good at remembering which artist was which. He had once been told that he was a visual thinker. He preferred that to what he was usually told, which was that he was dim.
“He was… remarkable.”
There was something terribly sad about the man’s face in that moment, and it hurt Vince to look at him.
“Did you know him?” Vince asked.
The older man looked deep into Vince’s eyes, like he was trying to see directly into Vince’s soul. Vince wilted under the gaze, but desperately wanted the man to find something worth seeing.
“I would like to paint you,” the older man said, suddenly cool and composed. “I’ll pay generously for your time.”
Vince tried to stand up straight, but the dapper man’s posture was so erect and perfect, Vince still felt like he was slouching.
“Paint me? A portrait, or…”
“Yes, a portrait,” the man snapped. “I don’t want to actually paint on you, although… No. I want a portrait.”
“Of me?” Vince asked, completely confused but oddly thrilled.
“No. Not of you. But you’ll be a perfect model.”
Vince’s feelings were hurt by the statement, but the sadness had returned to the man’s face. Vince would have done anything to cheer him up.
“Sure. I haven’t got much on.”
Xxx
Vince had no idea how to dress for a modeling gig. He tried asking Howard, but that just led to a lecture about the finer points of Howard’s face and physique. Vince wondered if it was something Howard had learned from Tommy, to tell people he was handsome rather than leaving them to make their own decisions. Vince had seen pictures of Tommy, and Tommy had been a big-headed freak that only Howard could call a “handsome man.” Tommy had needed to confuse people if he’d wanted to pass his cheese-like head off as appealing, but Howard was normal enough. His bragging only made people look for flaws in his appearance.
Vince settled on a simple white t-shirt and jeans, with only a touch of eyeliner and lip gloss. He wore his hair back in a ponytail, since Rosey had seemed keen on the style. It looked weird, but it helped Vince pretend he was playing a role. He wasn’t a scared kid trying to figure out how to model; he was Vince Noir: ponytailed modeling star.
Rosey’s work space was a warmer and friendlier place than Vince had expected. The walls were a soft pink and the floor was a blond hardwood. In the middle of the room was a stool.
Rosey was still natty looking in his painting smock. He greeted Vince with tea and biscuits and showed him around the studio. There were pictures of Rosey when he’d been young, apparently with the infamous Bauer. Rosey had been fit in his youth. He’d already had the austere grace of his elderly self, but there was something about those photos that excited Vince. There was a magnetism to Rosey and a promise that something wild lurked beneath his polished exterior.
Bauer was a strange-looking man with a sharp and bony face, emphasized by a severe ponytail. He was handsome in an odd sort of way. Vince was not offended to be compared to Bauer, but he wasn’t exactly flattered.
“He was the most remarkable man,” Rosey said softly, and when Vince turned to look at him, Rosey’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Irreplaceable.”
Vince wanted to make Rosey happy. He wanted it with his whole heart.
“How should I pose?” Vince asked. He was eager to please Rosey and ease his sadness if possible. Vince had yet to lose someone he loved, and Rosey’s pain seemed unfathomable.
“There’s a robe behind the screen. You can fully disrobe, or you can leave on whatever you like until you begin to feel foolish and decide to pose fully nude.”
Vince’s stomach flipped, but Rosey looked bored. It was obvious from his speech that he was accustomed to working with inexperienced models. While Vince was hesitant to get his kit off, it had little to do with Rosey, who seemed to be all business. Vince ended up removing all of his clothing, but he wrapped the robe tightly around himself.
“Should I sit on the stool?” Vince asked as he nervously shuffled out from behind the privacy screen.
“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable,” was Rosey’s only response. He was already busy mixing paints. Looking around the room, Vince got the impression that Rosey worked with a variety of media, from paint to what appeared to be actual crabs. Vince had only ever been good at drawing when he’d been a kid. He wanted to watch Rosey at work, but instead, he sat on the stool and waited for further instruction.
Vince kept his robe on, but Rosey seemed unconcerned. He stared at Vince and held up his brush like he was measuring Vince’s height and width, but he didn’t speak a word. Vince looked around the room and tried to find something to entertain him so he could sit still, but everything he saw filled him with questions. He wondered if Rosey was going to paint him so he looked like Bauer, or if he was just going to make Vince look all weird and distorted like some of the paintings on the wall. Nothing in the studio was ‘normal.’ Everything was strange in one way or another. It made Vince want to take up drawing again.
“Was Bauer a painter like you?” he asked after an eternity of silence.
“Bauer was a remarkable painter, but he preferred more dynamic art forms. He was a visionary.”
Vince let another eternity go by.
“Was he your boyfriend?”
Rosey stood behind his easel and out of Vince’s sight and said, “He was my partner in every way.”
Vince had always thought “partner” was a cold term to use to describe a lover, but when Rosey said it, it sounded powerful. Vince tried to imagine himself with a partner “in every way,” someone with whom he could share everything. He couldn’t fathom what she would look like.
When Rosey remained hidden behind his easel, Vince removed his robe. He pulled his legs up so his bits were basically covered, but he sat naked on the stool and tried to look like a visionary.
Rosey sighed sadly before returning to work. He made no acknowledgment of Vince’s state of undress; he just went back to painting.
Xxx
Vince tried to adjust his position, only to realize too late that his leg was asleep. He wobbled for a moment before crashing to the floor. He hit his elbow hard and hissed in pain. The pain was so intense that he gave no thought to modesty as Rosey tended to him with an ice pack.
“This happen a lot?” Vince asked, honestly curious about why Rosey had the ice pack at the ready.
Rosey smiled wanly.
“Surrealism comes with its bumps and bruises.”
Vince laughed. “You sound like my supervisor at the zoo. ‘Young Vince, you’ll find the zookeeper’s life is full of risk and danger…’ Sorry. He’s a bit mental.”
Rosey nodded, but Vince wasn’t sure he’d heard a word. Rosey’s eyes were traveling over Vince’s body with something more than artistic appreciation. Vince felt himself flushing all over, but he made no effort to cover himself. Other than having a girlfriend for two days when he’d been thirteen, Vince’s love life had been nearly nonexistent. He was already closer to seventeen than sixteen, and he’d never gone farther than a kiss.
Vince wasn’t so much attracted to Rosey as to Rosey’s attention. He wanted the desire in Rosey’s eyes to stay focused on his body. He’d attracted Rosey’s attention by looking like someone else, but it was clear that Rosey was finally truly looking at Vince. It was an old man’s hand on Vince’s shoulder, but the fingers were long and elegant. Vince could tell how Rosey held a pen and how he held a brush from the calluses on his otherwise delicate hands. Vince thought of the word ‘intimate’ in a new light.
Vince’s chest tightened as Rosey stroked his hair.
“His hair was turning white when I lost him,” Rosey mused. “It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful.”
Vince wondered if he was beautiful, but he couldn’t be selfish in the face of Rosey’s depth of feeling. It was Rosey’s moment.
Vince stayed still as Rosey moved a hand to his shoulder and then to his chest.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Rosey asked in a breathy voice that made Vince twitch below the waist. He’d never heard the voice of arousal in person before. Even from someone who looked like his grandfather, it was enticing.
“It’s nice,” Vince whispered.
Rosey chuckled softly. “The uncomplicated joys of youth.”
Vince didn’t ask any questions; he just closed his eyes as Rosey wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock. Rosey knew what he was doing, and his hand was soft and sure as he stroked. Vince leaned back against Rosey, ignoring the wet paint against his back. When Rosey wrapped his free arm across Vince’s chest, Vince grabbed on to the arm with both hands and came. The orgasm hit him suddenly and shook his whole body. He was about to apologize for the mess when Rosey pressed a kiss to his cheek and called him a beautiful boy.
Vince’s mind was blown, but Rosey was in full command of his senses as he cleaned Vince up and steered him back to the now-absurd privacy screen to get dressed. Vince didn’t hear a word Rosey said, only the calm and kind tone that told him everything was fine. The only time Rosey seemed less than Buddha-like in his calm was when he filled Vince’s hand with Euros.
“Does that seem like enough?” Rosey asked.
“You could give me a lot less than this,” Vince answered honestly. “I just sat on a stool and, well, made a mess on your floor.”
Rosey laughed and added a few more bills. As Vince left, he caught a glimpse of Rosey’s easel. The canvas was covered in doodles with splashes of color. Vince recognized his fidgeting poses and was impressed by how his nervous energy came across even in the most basic outline. He also recognized the way the doodles stood as scaffolding for the real drawings. Later, Rosey would build his Bauers on those Vince skeletons.
“Was it worth it?” Vince asked before he had time to think better of it.
“I beg your pardon?” Rosey looked baffled, and there were tears shining in his eyes.
“Loving someone that much. Is it worth it?”
Rosey gave Vince a tight smile as he composed himself.
“I wouldn’t sacrifice a minute I had with him. If I could sacrifice one memory and lose a year’s worth of pain…” Rosey teared up again, and his voice was rough with emotion as he continued. “Love is worth it, young man.”
“I’m called…”
“Let’s leave it at ‘young man.’”
Xxx
Vince felt like an alien in his own skin. Everything was the same, and yet he had changed forever. Apparently, he’d had a sexual awakening without ever realizing he was asleep. He’d left his uniform at the zoo, so he was forced to wear Howard’s. He’d tailored it to his exact measurements and it looked brilliant. The only problem was his painful awareness that he was wearing another man’s clothing. His bits were being covered by material that had covered Howard’s bits, and it was entirely too intimate for a Thursday morning.
Which was why he dropped a bag of feed when Howard greeted him.
“Bit jumpy,” Howard observed. “Rough night?”
Vince couldn’t look at him. He tried to act normal as he cleaned up the feed, but he no longer remembered how a person was supposed to move about. He knew he was in trouble when Howard knelt down to help him instead of folding his arms and watching.
“You all right, Little Man?” Howard asked.
Vince felt dizzy.
Let’s leave it at ‘young man.’
“You’ve gone all white, Vince. Did you eat candy for breakfast again?”
Howard’s familiar face had been made strange by his unexpected show of concern and Vince’s sudden awareness that Howard was a man. He was, at least in theory, a sexual being. He had a mouth that had probably kissed a few women, and not just on their mouths.
Howard shoved his hands under Vince’s armpits and lifted him to his feet like he was a child.
“Have a seat before you pass out.”
Vince slouched on the bench while Howard put a wet flannel on the back of his neck.
“So, what’s her name, then?” Howard asked in a jovial tone.
Vince asked “Who?” and immediately saw his mistake. Howard’s smallish eyes widened slightly.
“So what’s his name, then?”
Vince covered his face with his hands and waited to actually die of embarrassment.
“Joey Moose said he saw you exchanging information with an older man. Said he was posh.”
Vince wondered if he was having a nightmare. Howard wore a ‘fox bummer’ sign on his back at least twice a month without noticing, but suddenly he was Sherlock Holmes.
“Did something happen that you didn’t want to happen?” Howard asked in a tone so soft and gentle, it would have made a soap bubble seem abrasive in comparison. Tears were stinging Vince’s eyes.
“No,” Vince whispered as he willed the tears to recede. “Nothing like that.”
Vince lost it when Howard put his hand on Vince’s shoulder. His supervisor never touched him.
“Because boys can say no, too, you know. Men can say no. A married woman tried to kiss me once, and I said no. I’ve regretted it every single day since, but that’s… that’s not really relevant to this conversation. What I’m trying to say is, if you don’t like something, you don’t have to do it. You don’t owe anything to anyone.”
Vince felt guilty for not defending Rosey. Rosey hadn’t done a thing that Vince hadn’t enjoyed, and he didn’t regret the encounter at all. He wasn’t sure why he felt so delicate and brittle, but he really wanted Howard to take care of him. He wanted Howard to tell him what to do and make everything feel normal again.
Vince had had the occasional thoughts about men, but he’d never thought he might be bisexual. He could never imagine himself with a man, and now he’d gotten off with a man old enough to be his grandfather. Maybe it was the money that was making him feel so off about the experience. In the light of day, it seemed more like a scene from a classy porn than reality. It would have felt like prostitution, but Vince knew no one would pay that much just to give him a handy. If that ever seemed like a viable career option, Vince would definitely quit the zoo and become a prossie.
“I just modeled for him. He was talking about his lover that died, and it was well sad…” Vince couldn’t possibly articulate the pain he’d seen in Rosey. He didn’t know a word to covey that kind of pain.
Howard gave Vince a one-armed hug and spoke quietly into Vince’s ear.
“I don’t mean to meddle, Little Man. I know you don’t have family, and I feel like I should look out for you, make sure people don’t take advantage of you.”
“You make me do your work all the time,” Vince pointed out. His tried to sound cheeky, but his voice cracked. He couldn’t quite stop crying.
“Exactly. I know how easy it is to take advantage of you, and I don’t want to see anyone else trying it.” Howard looked stern but his eyes were twinkling. “I’m your supervisor. I take my responsibility seriously.”
“Thanks, Howard.”
He literally cried on Howard’s should until Fossil came by and called them names. When he was done crying, he felt better. His encounter with Rosey had been strange, but it had also been exciting and a hell of a better story than getting drunk and feeling someone up on a couch. Vince had basked in the reflected glow of a great love, and it was beautiful. Vince wanted to fall in love. He also wanted another hand job.
After work, Howard took Vince to a chippy, where they laughed for hours about Bob Fossil. Vince wanted to set Howard straight about what had happened with Rosey, but he hated to ruin the mood. Howard was drunk and giggly, and Vince wanted to enjoy his supervisor’s bonhomie.
“Do you reckon he sleeps in curlers like my mum?” Howard asked. “How else would he get those curls? My hair doesn’t do that.”
“Your hair clings to your head like it has a fear of heights,” Vince agreed. “I like when it gets long and the curls in the back start reaching out, like they’re trying to escape.”
Howard laughed, but he looked self-conscious as he ran a hand through his lank hair. It occurred to Vince that not only was Howard a man with the ability to have sex, Howard was a man who could conceivably be a sexual partner for Vince. As bizarre and outlandish as the idea was, it was possible that Vince and Howard could end up having sex. The thought blew Vince’s mind.
“All right there, Little Man?” Howard asked as he tried to prop his wobbly head on his hand.
Vince tugged at Howard’s sleeve, and Howard’s head nearly hit the table. Vince squealed his apologies, but Howard couldn’t stop laughing.
That night, Vince thought about how Howard had long fingers like Rosey. It was hard to think of Howard in sexual terms, but when Vince thought of Howard laughing until he turned red and tears formed in his eyes, it didn’t seem like such a crazy idea. He could imagine the ways it might be nice to touch Howard, but he could also imagine how Howard would boss him around and try to play jazz while they did it. Howard Moon was not Vince’s Bauer. Or his Rosey. He wasn’t sure which he was looking for.