WHEN SULLY woke, the sun was already low in the sky. Afternoon, maybe early evening. The heat from August hung in his room like miasma. So did the smell of sex. After a client he usually opened the small window above his desk, but he’d apparently fallen asleep right then and there. He was still naked too, which was another thing uncommon for Sully.
He rose from his bed and gathered his clothing. His phone said it was four in the afternoon. There were already several messages from Trinity (writing as Tom) and Artie about the upcoming schedule for the weekend and his chores.
“Shit.” Sully threw on a new T-shirt and some jeans and opened the damn window before he ran down the stairs.
Artie was behind the counter, wearing a blue dress that displayed her strong arms and brought out the violet in her eyes. She merely shook her head and gestured to the basement when Sully arrived.
“Go. You still have time before the rush.”
“Thanks. Sorry. Won’t happen again….” His excuses disappeared as he bounded down the stairs and grabbed the two laundry baskets full of clean sheets. He used the elevator at the back of the house to take them up to the fourth floor and stepped out. Lisa and Cecil were the only people who shared the floor with him. Since they were elementals who could conjure fire, water, air, or water power, they needed to be as far away from the public as possible and to keep a ready store of patchouli plants that would dull their scent by their rooms. Sully was the easiest person to have around their rooms—the fairies like Brandy and Michael who were sensitive to elementals powers needed to be kept as far away as possible.
Sully knocked on both of their doors. There was groaning from Lisa but not the kind that meant fuck off I’m with a client. Lisa had been at the house for years. She had no excuse for always missing the laundry runs. Artie’s schedule needed to be followed to a T.
“Hey, hey,” Sully greeted her. “Wakey-wakey. Time for laundry.”
When he got no response, Sully moved on to Cecil’s room. Artie would speak to Lisa later, or Lisa would rush in a mad dash to get her sheets cleaned. Either way, it wasn’t Sully’s problem anymore. He knocked once before Cecil, a young man with flat brown hair and a narrow nose, appeared and handed over a bag of sheets without a word. When Cecil picked up his phone and started to talk as if Sully wasn’t there, Sully tried not to be bothered by the rudeness; Cecil was still getting used to Artie’s. At eighteen and a half, he was the youngest person currently working in the house. By the time Sully stripped the sheets of his own bed, Lisa’s old ones were out by her door. Figures. Always in by the last dash. Sully left them both stacks of new sheets without bothering to knock again.
After gathering his laundry inside his room, he was about to bring it down to the basement when he noticed something along the side of his bed, wedged under the box spring. He lifted the futon mattress and shimmied it back. There was some struggle as he tried to reach behind and under the mattress, but he eventually pulled out a belt.
“Who the hell…? Oh.” Sully smiled, remembering Chip the cop from this morning. Chip had taken off his belt when Sully was going down on him, but the belt must have gotten twisted in the sheets, then under the mattress itself, after the two of them came and fell asleep. Either Chip didn’t notice his missing belt… or he knew it was stuck, but he let me sleep.
Sully’s heart warmed. The guy was a sweetheart, but now Sully liked him even more. He added the belt to his desk drawer and made a note to tell Artie to get Chip back here. If he’s a vamp, though, he’ll be in again. The thought made Sully breathe a little easier.
Sully took the dirty laundry to the elevator and stepped inside. The machine made awful noises sometimes, like never-ending creaks, but Sully was sure it would never break down. The house had been around since the 1800s and survived through a couple prohibitions. During the transition period when Canada became known as New Canadiana, the Victorian house had been put to the test in terms of safety, and all the technology had been updated numerous times since then. Sully had never heard the entire story from Artie, but if they ever had time, Sully was sure she could fill in the blanks about a lot of its history. When the elevator stopped on the second floor, Tom was waiting to get on.
“Hey, man!” Sully pressed the elevator door buttons so it would stay open.
“Hey, hey,” Tom said, his voice low and gravelly as if he’d only just woken up as well. He wore loose blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a cigarette package in the front pocket. His dark hair was combed back, but clearly unwashed. He gave Sully a high five when he stepped inside. Then he saw the baskets. “Shit. It’s laundry day, isn’t it? I should have brought my sheets out.”
“I’ve only done the fourth floor, so you have time.”
“Cool. Been one of those nights. And days, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah. You were busy, so much so I got one of your clients.”
“What? Who?” Tom’s tone was more playful than mad. Tom—and Trina—often had more clients than they could handle.
“The cop. Chip, I’m pretty sure, though he doesn’t look like a Chip.”
“Oh, my Chocolate Chip! That’s how I remember him.”
Sully chuckled. “When you put it like that, maybe the name does fit him.”
“Uh-huh. How was he? Okay?” Tom’s brow was quirked like it had been a shifter or a changeling meeting, not a vamp cop as passive and pliable as Chip had been.
“Yeah, he was fine. Should I be worried?”
“Depends. Sometimes he’s a fucking mess.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He’s just… really clingy. Always wants me and always wants the same damn thing. Boring, honestly, even if it’s my standard bread-and-butter kind of shtick. I don’t always want to be Trina the housewife or therapist, though, you know?”
“You want to be Tom? Who… rides fast cars and gets fucked on the hood?” Sully asked, making a face that was part in jest. “Sorry, I don’t remember this persona’s kinks that well.”
“The car sex is one of them, sure. Being Tom is a lot more exciting, especially because he brings in different clients.” Tom smiled as he recounted the night he’d spent with a bachelor party. Sully felt sore just hearing about it. “All five guys. All me. Long, long night.”
“Really? You don’t mind stuff like that?”
“Well, let me remind you, being a witch means I can heal myself pretty quickly. These guys weren’t bad, but they wanted to get a bunch of stuff out of their system, so I provided the body to do it in. And it’s just physical. I can’t do the emotional labor that comes with being with Chip, I think. Because he wants to talk and talk and talk. He doesn’t get to connect with many people, I think. So when he comes he just won’t stop.”
“Because he’s a vamp?”
“Because he’s a cop too. Like, man, that’s gotta be the worst job to transform in. How could you keep something like that from them? Every day he probably thinks people are going to find out.”
Sully shrugged. He knew, from one session together, that Chip had been a vamp since he was young and somehow managed to get his hands on “normal papers” to enter the force. Tom either was mistaken or had never listened in the first place.
When the elevator doors pinged for the second time, Tom huffed. “Damn. We’ve been talking too long, and I didn’t mean to go so far down. I wanted to get out at the lobby, say hi to Tabby at the front desk for a bit, then go grocery shopping. But you always get me, Sullivan.”
“Sully, please. You know you can just take the stairs after you hang out with me. And you should hang out with me, rather than just loitering in an elevator.” Sully shoved the laundry basket between the doors, blocking them so they’d stay open. “Please?”
“Oh? You miss me?” Tom batted his eyes. They both laughed and moved into the basement laundry room.
“Maybe. But I’m also curious: You planning on staying Tom for longer?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I thought I was some neutral gender-fluid being when I manifested my magic, but being a dude has its perks. And I feel like enjoying them for the time being.”
“So would you mind, then, if I took over as Chip’s major worker?”
Tom walked over to the laundry machines and sat on one of the dryers. Sully added the sheets to the washer, a lump rising up in his throat. He didn’t know why he wanted Chip as his client so much. And he wasn’t sure if he could ask again.
“You serious?” Tom finally said.
“About fabric softener? Always serious about fabric softener.”
Tom chuckled. “You know, I thought fabric softener was detergent when I moved out. I kept washing my clothing with that and only that.”
“Oh, precious. I was told how to do laundry when I was five.”
“I know, Mr. Oliver Twist. But seriously. Answer my question. You serious about Chip as your client?”
Sully was glad he was staring at the washing-machine keypad so Tom couldn’t see his blush. He took a long time to figure out whether or not he needed cold or normal cycle before he answered. “Maybe. He was nice.”
“He is that, but I feel the need to also repeat: the boy’s a mess.”
“Yeah, but I’m used to messes.”
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“Don’t do this.” Tom tsk-tsked from the side of his mouth. “Don’t fall for him.”
“Oh my God. I’m literally asking to take over a client who gave me the easiest second hour of my life. He let me fucking sleep, Tom. Can you imagine just sleeping? I mean, bachelor parties aside where you get five guys to have fun with—sleeping is amazing.”
“Yeah, but I bet he wanted to cuddle and ask a zillion questions about you.”
Sully considered this but shrugged off the concern. The cuddling wasn’t bad at all—in fact he was sure he started most of it—but some of Chip’s questions had gotten under his skin. Do you have a sibling? Are you sure? Even a half sibling? “Maybe he’s a little intense at times, but he was easy enough to say no to and move on. In this business that’s something you need a lot.”
“Fair enough. I guess he always was a sweetheart about things. Remembered my birthday, which I always thought was nice. Especially since I lied and told him the wrong date. So always, on March first, there’s a cake for me. Red velvet. Nice.”
Sully didn’t even want to comment on Tom’s games. It was common to lie to clients if they were too insistent. All personal information could be used against you at any point. But Chip had sent Tom—rather, Trina—a cake. He remembered birthdays, not fears or boundaries to push the session to something darker. Every single one of Sully’s prerequisites for a good client was being checked.
“Which was an odd cake flavor, you know. You’d think he’d bring me chocolate chip!” Tom guffawed, and though it wasn’t that funny, Sully laughed too.
“You’re already speaking about him in the past tense. Does that mean I can have him?”
“Ugh.” Tom jumped off the washing machine and folded his arms across his chest. “Whatever. Fine. It’s gotta be up to him, though. You know that, right? And you gotta start getting your blood taken for him.”
“Right.” Sully considered this a moment before he nodded. “That’s not a big deal.”
“Really? You were… upset at the last mention of the blood business.”
“That was a long time ago. I’m so much better now.”
Tom looked at Sully with a glint in his eyes that made him seem more like Trinity. He ran a hand over Sully’s ear, tucking his hair behind it. “Well, good. I’m glad you’re a lot better. But I’d talk to Artie soon about the blood, since you’ll want to have it drawn before he comes here next. And you with your human body makes that difficult.”
“Right, of course.” Sully remembered his first aid training in a rush. It had been so long ago that he knew the science on supernaturals was well out of date, but Tom still made a point. Drawing Sully’s human blood could only happen every so often—fifty-six days if he recalled correctly—unless platelets would do. “Do vamps still need once a week?”
“At least,” Tom confirmed.
“Well, then I guess I better get started. And talk to Artie.”
Tom’s gaze narrowed. “Yes, but remember—it’s not a guarantee of a switch. And she’ll tell you the same thing I am: don’t fall for him. Don’t fall for anyone. If they buy you now, they’re always going to think they can.”
Sully wanted to argue, but he knew there was no point. Everyone was bought and sold and traded. It was how the world worked, how capitalism worked, and even friendships like this one between himself and Tom were no different. Sully did his laundry, even on days Tom was assigned, and Tom always gave Sully a couple of extra tens or twenties to do it because he hated soapsuds so much. At least now, with the fabric softener story, Tom’s aversion made sense.
“So, I’m gonna get some food,” Tom said, heading toward the stairs and signaling an end to their client negotiation. “You want anything?”
“The usual, please.”
“Ah yes. Goldfish crackers and Kit Kat bars. The breakfast of champions.”
Sully blushed. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s cute. Little kid food. I’m going to get you a proper lunch while I’m at it, though. Not the PB and J you always make and then bury yourself in your books afterward.”
“Well, thanks. I’m still going to bury myself in the books, though.”
“I know. Wouldn’t have it any other way. But at least this time, you’ll do it with pastrami on rye or ham and cheese. Sound okay?”
Sully thanked Tom one last time before he loaded the next washing machine and Tom took the steps two by two. Sully cleaned out the lint traps and the old clothing—black and lime green, so probably Michael the fairy’s outfit—before he assessed his timeline. Another twenty minutes were needed before the sheets could go into the dryer, and it would probably be another hour before Tom was back from the grocery store because often he walked and was distracted by at least three stores along the way. Sully considered going upstairs to talk to Artie about getting blood drawn but decided he didn’t want to be lectured before his lunch. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor and hoped Lisa wasn’t hogging the bathroom.
He found it empty. He said a silent prayer for privacy as he locked himself inside. Gray eyes and blond-brown hair startled him before reminding him yet again of the night before. The hair dye, the contacts, and the dress-up the client had insisted on was strange but had paid well.
No wonder my eyes felt scratchy after sleeping. The contacts were the twenty-four-hour kind, probably enchanted by some spell to make them last longer, but Sully was sick of them now. He removed them using the solution the customer gave him (and that Artie verified as safe to use). His brown eyes stared back at him. Boring but his own.
He ran the water, getting it up to temperature, while he looked under the counter and found an unclaimed box of black hair dye. The color wasn’t perfect, but he liked it. He mixed up the solution, and in no time he was waiting for the dye to set. With the shower cap still on, he gathered another floor’s laundry and switched loads in the basement Back upstairs Tom had left Sully’s lunch, with a note pinned to it, outside his door.
For my #1 human buddy. Don’t fall in love.
Sully took the meal into his room and crumpled up the note and threw it into his trash. Tom had gotten him a pastrami on rye sandwich from the deli around the corner and four Kit Kat bars along with a gigantic bag of Goldfish crackers. He’d be set for the weekend at least. Sully ate the meal as he waited for his hair to set, trying not to think about the belt in his drawer and the possibility of seeing Chip again.
Once the sheets were dry, he removed them from the machine, but before he set to folding the sheets, Sully washed out the hair dye. The reflection in the mirror wasn’t quite what he was used to, but it was close enough. He didn’t know how Trinity could stand switching so much and at will. Sully needed the consistency of his own body at the end of the day, since it was the only thing he ever had for sure.
When he was done with the sheets, Sully found Artie in the front hallway. She lifted her head as he entered and gave him a soft smile.
“Hey, there. You look like a new man.”
“More like an old one. The sheets are done, by the way.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. But that’s not what you need now, is it?”
Sully took in a deep breath. Tom was wrong. All of life was an exchange. Even if Chip had bought him for one night, that didn’t mean the relationship was doomed. It only meant—like all great partnerships—they had a common goal. “I need to talk to you about giving blood.”
Artie smiled and led Sully into the back room that he hadn’t seen in years.