Sing for Their Supper - 36

 

Sam took his job seriously. "This is the living room," he told Vin when they were inside. "And the kitchen."

 

Vin nodded. "I think I could have figured that out."

 

"And your room," Sam said, opening one of the doors.

 

"Four rooms, five guys counting me. Who did I put out?"

 

"Ricky. He's sharing with me," Sam replied. "But he doesn't mind."

 

"Nope," Ricky said as he and others trooped into the cabin. "It's not like I'm sharing a bed, just a room."

 

Something in the tone of Ricky's reply made Vin wonder if he wished it was otherwise, but he refrained from commenting. Not my place to, even if I'm right.

 

"Why don't I unpack," Vin told them, "then we can get to know each other."

 

He went into what was now his room. It felt strange, having a real bed and a place to store his things. It's been a long time since I've had somewhere to call my own, even if it is only a bedroom.

 

After he'd put things away, Vin went back to the living room. It was empty, but he heard voices, so he stepped outside.

 

"We're going down to the lake," Sam said. "Do you want to come with us?"

 

"At this hour?"

 

Roma laughed. "This from the man who never appeared until dusk. Yeah, at this hour. Come on."

 

Vin did, staying close to Roma. The kids seemed nice… But there're so many of them.

 

Everyone was settled on the shore, before one of the girls, Jolie—if Vin remembered right—asked, "How long have you been homeless?"

 

"Longer than you've been alive, young lady," Vin replied.

 

"Why?"

 

"Why am I homeless?" Vin sighed. "When I wasn't much older than you are now, I started drinking and, pretty soon, I was an alcoholic. Don't worry. I've beaten it. Well, I'll always be one—that's just how it is—but I haven't had a drink in over ten years. By the time I began getting my life together again, I had no life to go back to. I was used to the streets, so…" He spread his hands.

 

"Did you always play the piano?" DJ asked.

 

"I did. I was in a band, back in my youth. A pretty damned good one. But, we partied a lot." He paused, then grinned. "That's how the demon rum got hold of me."

 

"The what?"

 

Vin chuckled. "One name for liquor, especially when you get hooked on it. It's also a song by George and Ira Gershwin."

 

"Who?" Mace asked.

 

"Oh my God. Children, you have a lot to learn about real music. I bet you're all into, what do they call it? Hip-hop? Rap?"

 

"Nope," Sam replied, "Blues."

 

"Show tunes," Evie said with a hard nod of her head. "And I know who the Gershwins were, so there."

 

"Good girl. You sing? Well, of course you do or you wouldn't be here. Let's hear you."

 

Evie glanced at DJ. "I will, if he does."

 

"You're on," DJ replied. "How about… Yeah. 'You're the One That I Want'." He stood, pretended to slick his hair back, and started singing.

 

Evie was up seconds later, vamping as she sang Sandy's part. When they moved on to "We Go Together", the other teens joined in exuberantly.

 

"Not bad," Vin said to Roma.

 

She grinned. "Told you."

 

The group stayed by the lake for a while longer, listening to Vin tell stories about people he'd known on the streets—some amusing, some sad. Then he said, with a smile, "As the senior member here, I think it's up to me to tell you it's late and we should all be getting to bed."

 

"Damn," Dena stage-whispered to Jolie, "He's going all father on us."

 

Vin heard her, as she'd obviously meant him to. "I'm old enough, for sure. But I'd be a lousy one. Just think of me as a much older and hopefully wiser brother, who knows sleep is necessary. I suspect, from what Roma told me, you're going to be very busy starting tomorrow."

 

"Yeah. We're doing a read-through, whatever that is," Dena replied.

 

"Reading our parts together, to get a feel for the whole thing, I think," Evie said.

 

"Has everyone read their script?" Sam asked.

 

"Three times, for me," Mace replied. "I hope I can remember my lines when the time comes."

 

"I've got the feeling Tuck's going to make certain we go over and over them until they're imprinted in our minds forever," Ricky said.

 

"Why would you need to know my lines?" Mace asked with a straight face.

 

"Smartass," Ricky muttered.

 

Mace smiled. "Once a week, whether I need to be or not." He got up. "I'm going to read it—well, my parts—one more time then crash."

 

"I'm just going to crash," Evie said. She took DJ's hand when he offered it, letting him pull her to her feet, and they wandered up toward the cabins.

 

The rest of the kids dispersed, Ricky talking animatedly to Sam as they left the lakeshore.

 

"Nice bunch," Vin said to Roma.

 

"They are. I'm praying this all works out the way everyone hopes."

 

"It will, Roma. It has to…for all of us."

 

Sing for Their Supper - 35

 

Tuck got to the plaza early Sunday evening. He'd done his final show at the theater the previous night, after he and Brent had dropped Roma off at a downtown motel. She'd protested she could spend the night at her usual spot, but they were having none of that. As Brent had told her, "You're part of our theater, now, so no more sleeping…wherever you did. Got it?"

 

"Got it," she'd replied. "Thank you for caring."

 

"Of course we do." Tuck gave her a hug. "Now get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

 

Now, as he crossed the plaza, Tuck overheard Roma say to the man sitting beside her on the piano bench, "Here he comes. Remember, he doesn't bite. He's one of the good people in the world."

 

The man nodded, not looking as if he really believed her.

 

Tuck smiled at Roma, and then said, "This is the pianist you told me about, I presume."

 

"Yes. Vin," —she rested on hand on the man's arm— "this is Tuck."

 

Vin looked past Tuck as he mumbled, "Nice to meet ya'."

 

"Vin's sort of shy unless he's playing," Roma said, patting Vin's arm.

 

"Am not," Vin protested. "It's just…" He shrugged.

 

"You don't trust people," Tuck said.

 

Vin was older, probably in his fifties, Tuck thought. His dark hair was already graying, he was unshaven, and the jacket he had on was worn out at the elbows. There was a bulky ancient backpack at his feet, bulging with what Tuck was certain were all his worldly possessions.

 

"Yeah. Would you, if you were me?"

 

"Given your circumstances, probably not," Tuck replied. "How long have you been on the streets?"

 

"None of your damn business."

 

"Vin," Roma protested softly.

 

Vin glowered momentarily. Then he almost smiled. "Was putting you on, Tuck. Gotta know what you're like, you know. You didn't call me out, so I guess you're okay."

 

"Thanks. Roma says you're pretty good on the piano."

 

"Pretty good?" Vin seemed incensed. "I'm better than her, which is saying something."

 

Roma laughed. "Not sure of that. I'm just fair-to-middling." She got up, telling Vin, "Show him."

 

Vin swung around, thought for a moment, then began playing "Ain't Misbehavin'". From there, he segued into "The Joint is Jumping" and ended with "Honeysuckle Rose". The crowd of people who had gathered around applauded loudly when he finished.

 

"Bet you don't know who wrote those," Vin told Tuck.

 

Tuck grinned. "Fats Waller."

 

"You ain't as dumb as you look," Vin said.

 

"I sure hope not. Do you mind?" Tuck gestured to the bench, then sat when Vin moved to give him room. "Do you know "Give My Regards to Broadway"?"

 

"Hum a few bars and I'll fake it." Vin riposted. Then he laughed. "Of course I do." He played the first few bars. Tuck began singing and soon Roma joined in. "Hey, you're not too bad," Vin said when the song ended. "I mean you, Tuck. Roma? Hell, I know she's great."

 

By then, Tuck thought Vin had relaxed enough, so he asked, "Did Roma tell you why I wanted to meet you?"

 

"Sure did." Vin cocked an eyebrow. "Did I pass the audition?"

 

"You better believe it—and then some. Now the question is, would you be willing to join us?"

 

"I… Hell. Why not? Ain't got anything keeping me here."

 

"Great. Are you ready to leave now?"

 

Vin laughed. "Gonna make sure I don't have a chance to change my mind?"

 

"That did occur to me," Tuck admitted.

 

"Figured. Sure. Let's get out of here before these nice people demand an encore."

 

Tuck called Brent to let him know he'd be home late. Half an hour later, he pulled the van into the theater parking lot. The kids were gathered on the porch of the girls' cabin and the minute they saw the van, they came over. Vin seemed a bit nonplussed, Tuck thought, looking at Roma as if for support before they got out.

 

"Guys," Tuck said, "this is our music man. Vin." He introduced Vin to everyone before asking Sam to show him the cabin and where he'd be sleeping. Then he left to go home.

 

Sing for Their Supper - 34

 

Sam smiled, even though he knew Ricky probably couldn't see it. "True. I never had a craving to be on stage. I like my music, but it's just something I can do that I'm good at."

 

"What do you want to do? What would you do, if you had the chance?"

 

"Be a teacher."

 

"Really?"

 

"Uh-huh," Sam replied. "Young kids, grade school kids. Try to get to them before they learn to hate, and teach them we're all equals, given the chance."

 

"Hard to do if their parents have already indoctrinated them," Ricky replied sourly.

 

"I know. But it would be worth it if I could get them to at least open their minds to the possibility—to all the possibilities, I guess. That they can be anything they want, if they want it enough to fight for it."

 

Ricky took his hand to stop Sam from moving on. "You're an idealist. I never would have thought that."

 

"Why?"

 

"Maybe because I've become a cynic after spending so much time trying to survive, and I figure anyone else who lives the way we have to must be one, too."

 

"You do not come across that way."

 

Ricky laughed softly. "I hide it well. It makes life easier, as much as that's possible."

 

Sam laced his fingers with Ricky's. "Maybe that will change, now that we're with good people who care."

 

"Maybe. I'm not betting on it, but maybe. We'll see."

 

"Yeah. We will." Sam started to yawn and tried to hide it.

 

Apparently it didn't work, because Ricky chuckled. "Should we turn around and go back before you fall asleep?"

 

"It would probably be a good idea," Sam agreed.

 

They walked back, holding hands. Sam thought it wasn't personal, at least as far as Ricky was concerned. Not really. It was more from his need to have a friend who cared—and Sam did, he realized. We all need that. All of us here. Hell, everyone does, don't they? But sometimes, it doesn't happen. I suppose we're the lucky ones. We met Tuck and Brent—men who do care, despite what we are and how we've lived.

 

When they got back to the cabin, Ricky suddenly, surprisingly, hugged Sam.

 

"What was that for?"

 

"For listening. For not making me feel stupid because I opened up to you. For…for being a friend."

 

"That I am," Sam replied softly, hugging him back. "Now, let's get to bed." He quickly amended that when Ricky laughed. "In our own beds, in our own rooms."

 

Ricky grinned. "You did it again."

 

"I think I'm going to have to watch what I say around you."

 

"Please don't. It's fun—and funny. It makes me laugh." He gazed at Sam for a moment. "Really laugh, if you know what I'm saying."

 

"I do." Sam gave him another, quick, hug. "Let's get some sleep. If we don't, we'll be useless tomorrow."

 

"And we wouldn't want that," Ricky replied. "I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

 

"You, too," Sam said, as they went inside.

 

Sing for Their Supper - 33

          

Ricky snorted. "Reconnecting would have been a no-go. When I ran, it was because I knew what would happen if he found out I was gay." He looked at Sam. "I take it your family wasn't exactly overjoyed that you are."

 

"My family… My parents died when I was sixteen. They knew and weren't too happy, but they dealt with it—sort of. The rest of my family…" He shrugged. "They didn't want me because I am gay. Oh, they'd have tolerated me, I suppose, if they had been forced to be my guardians, but I wasn't willing to find out."

 

"Sometimes being gay sucks," Ricky said bitterly.

 

"No," Sam replied. "It's not being gay that sucks. It's the people who can't accept that it's as natural as being straight."

 

"Too damned many of them. And if you tell me it's getting better, I know that. But it doesn't help when it's your own family who hates what you are."

 

"I know." Ricky looked so sad and angry that Sam wanted to hug him. He didn't, only because he had no idea how Ricky would react. "At least, now we're with people who don't give a damn one way or the other."

 

"That we know of," Ricky muttered.

 

Rather than reply to that, Sam said, "Feel like going for a walk? It's beautiful here. It might help your mood."

 

"I guess." Ricky got up when Sam did. "Which way?"

 

"Left. We'll walk around the lake. By the time we get back, we'll be ready to fall into bed."

 

Ricky cocked his head, almost smiling. "I don't think that came out the way you wanted it to."

 

"What? We've had a long day. We'll be tired by the time…" Then Sam got it. "Oh, boy."

 

"Yeah." Ricky began walking, pausing to look back as Sam, who was still standing there. "Are you coming?"

 

Sam chuckled. "Now you're doing it. Or my head is taking me places…" He doubled over laughing. "I think," he sputtered, "we'd better just walk without talking."

 

"Now what's the fun in that? I'm sort of enjoying the unintentional double entendres."

 

"Me, too. But still…" He hurried to catch up with Ricky. They walked for a while in silence, enjoying the moonlight shimmering off the lake and the quiet surrounding them—or at least Sam was. He couldn't tell for certain if Ricky did or not.

 

"This is so different from the city," Ricky said. "Peaceful. No fears. No worries. Just us and the lake and the trees. No… No haters."

 

The pain in Ricky's voice was back with those last two words. Instinctively, Sam put his arm around Ricky's shoulders. He felt him tense—then slowly relax.

 

"Haters will hate," Sam told him gently. "All we can do is act as if it doesn't bother us, even when it does. That's the best way to defeat them."

 

"It should be that easy." Ricky stopped walking to look at Sam. "It's not just the gay thing. It's everything. The way they treat us because we're homeless, like it's our fault. Like we're lazy, good-for-nothings."

 

"It's not everyone, Ricky. You know that."

 

"But it's too many." He sighed and began walking again. "I don't know why I'm on such a downer right now. I should be happy with all this, with the chance we're getting to be someone, to live our dreams. Well, my dream, anyway. It might not be yours, I suppose."

 

                                                                                                                                                           

Sing for Their Supper - 32

 

 

 "What can we make with what's in here?" Ricky asked a while later, surveying the meager offerings in the fridge in the guys' cabin.

 

"I'd say, sandwiches—or sandwiches," Sam replied with a laugh. "Lunch meat or peanut butter."

 

"There's no jelly," Mace complained.

 

"We'll put it on the shopping list," DJ called out from the living room. He was on the sofa, scanning the script Tuck had given him.

 

"We have one?" Mace called back.

 

"No. But Tuck does—or rather, Brent, he said." DJ returned to what he'd been doing.

 

"I'll butter," Sam told Ricky, opening the bread packet and laying out slices. "You can put meat on and, hmm. Peanut butter's the only condiment we have."

 

"No way in hell," Ricky replied. "I've eaten some pretty gross things in my life but I put my foot down on peanut butter and lunch meat sandwiches."

 

"Chicken," Sam retorted.

 

"Nope. Just not crazy."

 

They finished making sandwiches for everyone while Mace poured the milk.

 

"Dinner's ready," Sam announced, setting the plates on the table. When DJ didn't respond, Sam went over and tapped his shoulder.

 

"Okay. Coming," DJ muttered, bookmarking the script.

 

"What are we going to do after dinner?" Mace asked while they ate.

 

Sam shrugged. "Explore?"

 

"With or without the ladies?"

 

"We'll leave it up to them." Sam snapped his fingers. "We can make a bonfire down by the lake."

 

"And roast marshmallows. Or we could if we had any," Ricky said.

 

Sam grinned. "We'll pretend. We're actors."

 

After finishing dinner and washing up, they went to the girls' cabin to see if they wanted to join them. That was met with enthusiastic cries of "you bet."

 

There was still enough light when they got down to the lake that they were able to find fallen branches to make the fire. Ricky had matches, so lighting it was no problem. Then he went in search of some twigs for their imaginary marshmallows. They had great fun pantomiming cooking and eating them. After that, "Since this is a campfire," Mace pointed out, they sang songs they remembered from their childhoods.

 

As they sang, Sam noticed Ricky hadn't joined in after the first few. Then Ricky got up, walking down to the edge of the lake.

 

"Is he okay," Dena asked, watching him with concern.

 

"I don't think so," Sam replied. "Why don't you put the fire out and head back while I find out what's going on with him."

 

While they did as he'd asked, Sam went after Ricky. He found him kneeling on the shore, staring out across the water, so he sat down beside him.

 

"What's going on?" Sam asked quietly.

 

Ricky sighed. "I was remembering when things were good at home, back when I was a kid. We used to go on picnics. We even camped out one time." He smiled sadly. "I thought life would always be like that, me and my dad doing things together and having fun. Then I grew up."

 

"It's a bummer when that happens. Have you— No, never mind. You wouldn't be here if you'd tried to reconnect with him."