"His name. Fonz. Is it a nickname or his real name?"
"It's a nickname, a reference to a character from an American sitcom from the seventies. Our Fonz over there rather strongly resembles the actor who played the character, and there is a certain similarity in mannerisms, as well, from what I understand. Jakob had to explain it to me, too, when we first considered hiring him into the Club."
"Fonz. Hmm. It's a strange name."
"I believe it was short for something Italian. Fonzarelli, or something along those lines."
We're leaning side by side against the hood of one of the Suburbans. Lorenzo abruptly pivots, grabs me by the hips, and pulls me around flush against him. "Hi," he says, grinning.
I pull away from his grip. "Ren, not now."
He keeps hold of me. "Why not? You embarrassed to be with me?"
"No, but—" in the interest of preserving my dignity, I stop fighting his superior strength and instead go stiff and rigid. "It isn't the time for PDA."
He gestures around us—Chance has Annika leaning back against his chest with his mammoth arms draped over her shoulders, crossed over her chest; she has her hands hooked over his forearms, and appears to be rather happy about the position. Saxon and Terra are strolling along the edge of the pier, hand in hand, chatting quietly. Silas is sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out, ankle-over-ankle, hands braced behind him, with Naomi laying perpendicular to him, her head on his lap, while Silas idly strokes her hair. In fact, everywhere I look, the couples are in some degree of affectionate, intimate positioning.
I sigh. "You have a point, I admit. I just…" I chew on the inside of my cheek. "It's a significant step, Lorenzo. I'm still getting used to being with you—to being happy. Allowing others to see it is…difficult."
"Happiness is not weakness," Lorenzo says.
"I know that, in my mind," I say. "But reality is different. I wish it were that easy."
He gently tugs me flush against him once more, and this time, I let him. I close my eyes and just breathe, focusing on the comforting, pleasing sensation of Lorenzo's arms around me, his strength surrounding me and cocooning me. I feel…safe, like this. It bolsters the resolve within me. Provides a shield around the soft, vulnerable parts of me—but a shield which Lorenzo is on the inside of, rather than the outside. I rest my cheek against his chest and loop my arms around his neck, breathing him in.
Gradually, I become aware of that specific sensation of being watched—the feeling of being the center of attention.
I open my eyes to see everyone staring at me. Saxon, quite literally, is open-mouthed in shock.
"Something you'd like to share with the class, Saxon?" I ask, not moving from my comfortable position.
"You—you're…" His mouth clicks closed.
I smile at him. "Trying out this whole…happiness…thing."
Saxon blinks at me for another moment, and then makes a dramatic pantomime of shading his eyes and scanning the sky.
I arch an eyebrow at him. "If you're looking for your balls, they're in her purse." I turn my gaze to Terra, smirking.
Saxon flaps his mouth again. "No, I was looking for flying pigs."
"She burned youagain, Sax," Sol says. "I think you've forgotten the face of our father."
Sax turns his uncomprehending stare at his brother. "What does that fuck-face have to do withanything?"
"'The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed,'" Solomon says.
"What thefuckare you talking about?" Saxon seems ready to have an apoplexy.
Solomon looks around at the group, but everyone else is staring at him just as confusedly. "No one has read that series? My god, a perfectly good joke wasted on a bunch of literarily-stunted poltroons."
Fonz, yet again, surprises everyone. "Nah, I've read it, it just wasn't as funny as I think you think it was."
"You've readThe Dark Tower?” Sol asks, sounding as surprised as I feel and everyone looks.
Fonz frowns at the group. "Wow, okay. So you all assume I'm some uneducated dumbfuck who's only good at shootin' shit?"
Chance, Kane, and Rev all speak in perfect unison. "Yes."
