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Chapter One

ELIJAH “LIE” CAIN

February

I measure the length of crocheted fabric against my arm. Hmm. Now that I’m holding it up, I can stick my arm into it like a sleeve. I might giggle a little. Just a little. I can’t help it. I’m always going to be a twelve-year-old at heart with my fascination with all things penis enduring.

Did I maybe find this pattern on a website that had a dozen different options and purchase them all?

I’m not saying I did, or I didn’t, but I do have a gym bag filled with crocheted cocks under my bed.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with them.

As with the rest of my growing collection of cockerabilia, it’s hidden throughout my room.

My dad would laugh. I know he would. I’ve shown him some things, and he thought they were hilarious. My mother? Nope. Not impressed. The number of times I’ve heard, “Lie. You’re never going to find a girlfr—partner, if you can’t act your age.”

Yes, six years after confirming I’m gay and my mother still can’t stop ‘ forgetting ’ or ‘ slipping up .’ It’s getting obnoxious, but meh. She’s a good mother otherwise.

Though her sense of humor isn’t that of a twelve-year-old boy, so yep, hidden cockerabilia all over my room. Someday when I’m able to afford my own place or a place with a friend, there will be dicks everywhere.

Anyway, another inch or so. This crochet dick is going to be long.

I’ve recently begun trying my hand at ‘tattooing’ and ‘piercing’ them, which means I’m finding actual examples of both and using embroidering thread to put them on the dick.

That’s why I’m starting with larger-than-life crochet dicks.

It’ll be easier for me to figure out the best way to make this happen.

A door closes in the distance and then the sound of fabric over the microphone. “Back.”

“What did you do?” I ask.

I can practically hear Cash’s snicker when he says, “I locked the outside doors. It pisses Ben off because the stupid idiot head can’t be bothered to bring his key when he leaves the house.”

I laugh. “Isn’t he just in the garage?”

“Yep. If he’s going to be a jerk all the time, at least I’m giving him a justifiable reason now.”

When I was young, I always wished I had a sibling. I used to beg my parents for one all the time. I used to be so jealous of Cash and Benson. At the time, they got along great.

Then Cash came out and Benson turned into the biggest asshole. It makes no sense at all. They’re raised by gay parents. We live on a gay island chain resort. We’re literally surrounded by gay people, which, until that point, Benson had been fine with.

Apparently, it’s only fine until his brother comes out as gay.

The chip on Ben’s shoulder has only gotten bigger and more infected with time.

The nastiness tends to remain focused on Cash, but occasionally it will spread further out.

His sole goal in life is to leave the Isle of Kala and gay capital of the world forever.

I’ve done that. It’s not pretty. But I suppose if you’re straight and turning into a hateful bigot, Ben might blend right in. At least, in my short experience, that seems to be the case.

“Listen to this,” Cash says, and I hear the shhhp of his window rising. Immediately lyrics filter in.

“I can be your breath

And you can be my daydream.

I can be your heartbeat

And you can be my sweet dream.

This could be us

But you’re too busy screaming.

You could be my life

You could be my lover

Instead, we’re passing in the night

Forever staying out of reach

Forever just another could be.]

Cash sighs.

“Your brother wrote that?” I know the answer, even before Cash snorts.

“Not a damn chance. I’ve heard his shit. It’s trash.” I wait for him to say it. I know he wants to. “Onyx wrote it.”

Onyx is his brother’s best friend and drummer in their punk rock boy band Whiskey Horizons. Cash has had a crush on Onyx for ages.

Unlike Benson, Onyx is a nice guy. He’s kind, thoughtful, and intelligent. Better yet, he doesn’t have a stick up his ass like Benson.

“Want to know something… interesting?” Cash asks.

“Yep, what’s up?”

“A week ago, I was sitting outside when Ben and Onyx got here. I was scrolling ShareIt, which means meme central, right? I was laughing over a ‘ this could be us ’ meme when they walked by. Ben, of course, scowled and basically told me to die. Onyx rolled his eyes and asked me what I was laughing at. I showed him the meme. It said ‘ this could be us but you’re too busy screaming .’ One guy was looking at a sexy position and the other guy was screaming at a video game. ”

“Ohhh.” I say, grinning hugely. “Those words?—”

“Are in the song!” Cash finishes. “I know. I don’t know what that means.” He sighs.

To me, it means that Onyx is talking to Cash through a song. This isn’t the first time something Cash has said or shown Onyx that’s ended up in a song. This is maybe the fifth or sixth.

“I’m just his muse,” Cash says.

“Maybe,” I say, though I don’t think that’s it. I think Onyx is communicating something, but I don’t want to say what it sounds like, so I don’t get Cash’s hopes up.

I look down at my feet. My toes are in those spacer things while the nail polish dries. I think the summer teals are beautiful and dry now. I set my crocheting aside and grab the clear coat polish from my windowsill.

“You went to the resident meeting, didn’t you?” I ask.

“Oh my god, have we not talked since then? Okay, first, I’m going to give you the tea that’s happening in my own backyard. So, the house on our left is Mr. Simmonds’.”

“I thought he was on the right.”

“No. That’s Mr. Simms. I tell my parents all the time that we need to change our last name to Simmons without the D, so the graduation of one name to the other makes sense.”

I snort.

“So, across from Mr. Simmonds is Mr. Tilly. He’s one of the bakers at a shop on Makara. Well, his wife pulled into their driveway, and James Gray climbed out the back window . Mr. Simmonds didn’t just see this; he caught it on film when James Gray was halfway out the window!”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I saw the video. Bestie, there have been rumors about James and Mr. Tilly for ages . We’ve always thought they were silly because no one has ever even seen them together.”

“Isn’t James Gray?—”

“The house husband of Wyatt Williams, General Manager of Tourism for Kala? Yes!”

“Hmm.”

“Someone isn’t keeping their house husband satisfied,” Cash sing-songs.

I laugh. “What happened at the meeting?”

“The uzhe. Leo’s flowers are too long again and too brightly colored according to Brittany, who we know is simply jealous because they’re nicer than hers by like… what’s the scale that one measures the beautifulness of flowers on?”

I shake my head, laughing. “Dunno.”

“Well, that caused a stink for a good ten minutes. Some anonymous person is turning books upside down at the library. We’re not talking one or two, but entire rows. Mrs. Lambert is getting annoyed. Oh! There’s something exciting proposed.”

“What?”

“An expansion of the islands!”

I sit back as I examine my toes and frown. “They’re islands. How do you expand them?”

“By creating man-made islands. They’re talking about another for residents and two more for the resort. They showed us the proposed layout, and Lie, it’s stunning. They’re talking apartments and shit. Like, affordable accommodations for people like us! The kids of the adults who work here.”

We’re not the first generation of kids that have been born on the Isle of Kala. They’re probably ten years older than us. Maybe fifteen years older. But the world has changed a lot in that decade and now finding work that pays the bills is difficult.

Not only that, but affording one of the few precious pieces of real estate that come up for grabs is impossible without making some real damn money. Money that you simply don’t make by the stupid little jobs that are readily available.

I’m not na?ve to the fact that this is normal all over the world. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less frustrating, though.

“Any news for a Kala college?” I ask.

“No, but I did bring it up. Bottom line is there aren’t enough people here that would attend at any given time. It’s not a venture that makes sense. “

I knew that. I’ve been looking into online courses since crying to my daddy to bring me home after being bullied and hazed at a college I attended for almost three semesters in Texas. It was the worst experience of my life. Someone actually smeared shit on my dorm room door!

A tightness grips my chest, and I take a breath. Not going to lie. I always feel like a bit of a failure for running away. There’s a part of me that knows I shouldn’t feel that way, but I caved under the bullying and ran instead of standing my ground.

I’m not sure I even want to go to college. A degree doesn’t guarantee you anything anymore. Not even on Kala. I only enrolled because I thought it’d be a good way to explore what’s out there. Maybe it’d help me decide what I want to do.

“What else?” I ask.

“For the past several months, the residents of Tasker Lane have been on Jeremy Darling’s case to repaint his house,” Cash says and I nod along. I remember that from last month’s meeting. “He agreed, but now they won’t let him because he wants to paint it beige.”

My face scrunches. “Why?”

Cash laughs. “Honestly, Lie. Have you looked at this man? He is beige. He was wearing tan shoes, khaki shorts, and a sand buttoned tee. The Pixl Latte is practically all neutral beige colors. That’s just his aesthetic.

But all of Tasker Lane is outraged because it’s a bright colorful rainbow and he wants to drop a beige house right in the middle. ”

The Pixl Latte is Jeremy’s coffee shop here on Bane Island.

One of two. The other is far more colorful and fun, but not gonna lie—Jeremy’s drinks are far superior.

The shop itself is modern, with clean lines and a neutral pallet.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but it contrasts the islands’ vibes drastically.

“Huh.”

“We spent twenty-five minutes on that argument alone. It was wild.”

“That’s excessive. Was there a group argument or one person arguing?”

“Oh no. It was a full-blown argument. Shouting and pointing fingers and most amusing of all, Jeremy was silent for almost the entire thing except to state that he really loves the shade, and then at the end, saying he still really loves the shade, but if the island is going to throw a tantrum, then he’ll paint it yellow again.

Which, of course, only led to more arguing as the ones throwing a tantrum are upset they’re being accused of throwing a tantrum, and the opposition who not only agrees with that assessment, but is still up in arms that they’re forcing someone to live a certain way when that’s half the battle our community faces in the world as a whole and we shouldn’t be forcing color on someone who doesn’t want it. In the end, no decision.”

I laugh. I wonder if all islands around the world go through this same thing. It’s super entertaining and yet, I love knowing what’s going on within my community.

“Miss Patty is looking for someone to sew some costumes for the pee wee dancers,” he says. “Interested?”

I hum and shrug. “Maybe. Depends on what they’re looking for. If they need basic structure, I can probably be convinced. If they’re looking for a million sequins, I’m going to have to pass.”

Cash laughs.

This time when I hear a door shut, it’s within my house. I wince. Mom’s home.

I love my mother, and I know she loves me, but I try to avoid staying inside when it’s just me and Mom. Her little digs that I’m not always convinced are accidental really get to me.

“Hold on, Cash. I need to relocate.”

“Yep.”

I gather my crocheting back into its basket and shove it under my bed. Then I grab my book and a couple of magazines, my phone, and a water bottle as I slide into my flip-flops and head out of my room, flicking the light off.

I stop in the hall, determining which door will not lead me to my mother. I choose wrong when I decide on the kitchen slider. Mom’s in the kitchen. I sigh. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, baby. What’re you up to?”

“Just gonna lay out and look at colleges for a while.”

She nods, her eyes scanning down what I’m wearing. Shorts. A tank. Flip-flops. I see her frown as soon as she looks at my feet. More specifically, my toes. Mom sighs.

“Darling, you painted your toes.”

“I did. You paint yours.”

“Of course, I do, baby. But I’m a woman.”

I nod without comment and head for the slider. “I’ll be outside.”

“Do you have a drink, Lie?”

I hold up my water bottle. “I just filled it a few minutes ago.”

“Okay, baby. Stay hydrated.”

“I will, Mom.” I shut the slider behind me and head for the lounge chair on the other side of the yard. Ugh. She’s caught between meaning well and loving me and not being able to accept that I’m not… masculine, I guess.

Weird since she and my dad have lived on Kala since I was two. Four of the six islands that make up the Isle of Kala are an LGBTQIA+ resort. A solid 90% + of the residents on Kala are part of the queer community. Mom seems to have no problem with anyone else but me.

I drop everything on the lounge chair and look at the neighbor’s house. A grin slides up my face when I see Laiken out back mowing his lawn. Not a loud mower. One of those old ones that has a wheel or whatever at the end that turns and chops grass as you push it.

He looks at me as I wave and raises his hand to wave back. I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the ground before letting my shorts drop. Before I climb on the lounge chair, I waggle my fingers at him again.

Laiken shakes his head, continuing to mow his lawn.

I’ve been flirting with Laiken since I was sixteen.

I think that’s when I realized how freaking hot he is.

Not just his graying bear of an exterior that’s always on display since he rarely wears a shirt, but everything else about him, too.

And I would know. I’ve known him my entire life.

He was there in the hospital the day I was born.

Because he and my father have been best friends since they were kids. And I’m crushing hard.