Page 134 of String Boys

“A ghost?” Kelly could still hear Seth’s voice, smoky with passion, in the darkness of the hotel room. “Seth is more there for me halfway across the world than you are right here in this room. Do you know he’s been sending my family money? This whole time! He’s getting recording contracts and performance gigs, and he dresses like a homeless person and eats peanut butter and jelly so my little sisters can go on science field trips and trips to Ashland to see plays!”

“That’s great, but what’s he doing for—”

“And he’s paying for my entire family to go to Tuscany!” Kelly belted it, not even because he was angry but because he couldn’t contain his joy. “Five weeks in Italy, Vashti—and you can give me the time off in two months or you can fire me, but you’re not fucking stopping me.”

Vashti dropped his chin to his chest and rubbed the back of his neck. “Goddammit, Kelly. How is a guy going to compete with that?”

“You weren’t supposed to compete with that!” Kelly’s shoulders drooped. “You were supposed to be my friend and be happy for me. That’s what you were supposed to do.”

“I’ll have to hire someone to take your place!” Vashti whined, and Kelly shrugged. The store was notorious for turnover. He wasn’t particularly worried. He knew every vendor for a three-block radius—and most of them would be happy to have him on board.

“If they’re still working here when I get back, I’ll have to find somewhere else to work until I graduate.” He was on track for two and a half more years, actually, because some of the classes needed for his computer graphics degree only rolled around once every year or so. His degree. His freedom. All of it. All at the same time. Him and Seth together—he could almost taste it.

Tuscany would be a sampling of that freedom.

The next two years would be appetizers and wine.

But the rest of his life with Seth was about to be their breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and he could hardly wait.

Vashti let out a sigh. “I… I don’t know if I can be your friend and your boss with how I feel about you,” he said at last. “I mean… I won’t be a douchebag at work, but, Kelly, I can’t keep being your dance bae either.”

It hurt. Kelly wouldn’t lie. “I was never gonna be yours,” he said plainly. “I’m sorry that hurts too much. I really liked having you as a friend.”

And he walked toward the connecting door to the store, just like that.

“Kelly… wait!”

Kelly turned around, and Vashti shrugged. “Movies Sunday? Forget all that shit I just said. I broke up with Edgar, and I really fucking need a friend.”

Kelly nodded. “I can do that.”

Vashti’s lean, pretty face lightened in a smile. “So you’ll get me something in Tuscany, right?”

“A T-shirt in the airport?”

“Aw, man, fuck you!”

Kelly grinned. “Nope. You’ll be lucky if you get the T-shirt.”

“I’ll keep hoping for a snow globe. I mean, a guy can dream.”

And Kelly hoped that was all he’d dream about, because Kellyhadhope now. So much hope. His life was just beginning. He knew it.

TWO ANDa half months later, Kelly stood naked on a porch in Tuscany.

Seth’s conductor friend wasn’t just nice—he was stinking rich too. His “house” was a villa along a private beach. A crisp breeze blew off the water, only to be heated by the sun on the white sand beneath the landing. Succulents and yarrow dotted the beach, and the smell was different here—richer with grapes and flowers that were different from the yarrow in Monterey or the redwoods and ferns in Mendocino.

Italian salt air, he and Seth called it, but God, the ocean still roared beneath his feet and the sense of freedom here—it wasn’t going away.

His mom had been the one to suggest Kelly go first and spend three weeks there alone with Seth. They’d spent five weeks total—two touring Florence, Venice, and Rome and three at the villa. Seth had performances during those first two weeks. Kelly had been alone, blissfully alone, taking walking tours of the Coliseum, Pompeii, museum after museum after castle.

He’d sketched everything for the first couple of days, but after looking at his hand work, after three years on the computer, he’d started to realize that about the only thing he drew well by hand was his family.

And Seth.

But he didn’t care. He drew it anyway, just to prove that he, Kelly Cruz, had gotten on a plane by himself and journeyed to a place so far beyond Sacramento that people at home didn’t believe it existed.

He took every pamphlet in English that he could manage, and he looked up every story he could find on his phone.