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Beyonce sang from Bitty’s pocket as he reached for his phone. “Oh hey, Holster!” He tucked the phone on his shoulder so he could continue mixing. “How’s your vacation goin’?”
“Hey Bits. It sucks man. I still can’t believe my ‘rents forced me to come home. But listen—”
“Oh they just miss you! Don’t hold it against ‘em. I know my momma’s just rarin’ to have me home for break! An’ we got plans to—”
“Bitty!” Bitty winced and pulled the phone away from his face a bit at Holster’s yell.
“...What?” He whimpered sadly.
“Sorry Bits. I love ya but you’ve gotta shut it for a sec. This is important.”
“Okay?”
“How’s Ransom doing?”
Bitty thought about it. “Well, actually, he’s been a bit frantic, now that you mention it. Y’know, with exams an’ all. Haven’t you talked to him?” Implying the why are you asking me?
Holster sighed in frustration. “Yeah. But he just tells me he’s fine. Even though it’s been what, three years now we’ve been through this? He knows I know he’s not fine!”
“Oh. Well...that’s sweet that you care about him.”
“He just doesn’t want me to feel guilty...” Holster mumbled to himself.
“Feel guilty? How d’ya mean?” Bitty asked.
Holster sounded like he’d resolved some decision. “Bitty I’m gonna need your help. Well, Rans is gonna need your help.”
“O...kay. Sure, I guess. I’m not sure I know—”
“Okay so, the thing is, Rans gets massively stressed out during exams, you know? He can’t get through it on his own. He can’t even sleep!”
“Oh dear,” Bitty was already running through his plans for making Ransom energizing baked goods and warm milk at night. He was never one to leave a friend in need wanting. “I didn’t know it was all that bad. Well, I’ll make him some—”
“No, no, no Bits, listen. You gotta blow him. Do it for me. Y’know, before bed.”
“WHAT?” Bitty exclaimed. “You—what??” Jack poked his head around the corner of the kitchen doorway and quirked an eyebrow.
“C’mon man. I mean, you’re gay. So it’s not so bad for you, yeah?” Holster said.
“Jesus Mary and Joseph, Holster! You—I can’t just—are you outta your mind?”
Jack furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong Bittle?”
Bitty covered the phone and tried to cover his panicked look. “Nothin’, Jack. It’s fine. Everythin’s fine.” He waved at Jack in a way he hoped was friendly but also shooing, to get him to leave the kitchen. Jack didn’t look convinced, but he left anyway.
Holster’s voice sounded over the phone. “Is that Jack? Don’t tell him, Bits. He won’t like it.”
“I know he won’t, Holster! I, well, I won’t either! And—thankyouverymuch—just because I’m gay does not mean I would!” He whispered viciously into the phone. “What does this have to do with anything anyway?”
“Look... it’s something I do for him during exams, because it helps him relax. He completely passes out when he comes, so I just do it right before he goes to bed, and voila, out for the night! It’s the only way he gets any sleep between the studying and the writing and the panicking.”
Bitty was beat red and pacing and pretty sure he’d lost his spoon somewhere along the kitchen floor. He was fanning his face like a bonafide southern belle and whispering harshly again. “Well...why can’t he just—y’know—take care of it himself?”
“C’mon bro, that’s never good enough, is it?”
Bitty sighed in exasperation. Then a thought occurred to him and he asked, “Holster...does this mean you and Ransom are, you know, together?”
There was a pause on the line. Then: “No, man. I mean, Rans is my best bro. This isn’t a gay thing, I just help him out.”
Bitty rolled his eyes. Yeah, right, he thought.
“I didn’t say it was a gay thing, Holster. I’m sure Shitty could say it more clearly but, just because you like Ransom—IF you like Ransom—it doesn’t make you gay.” Bitty sat down heavily at the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, I’m sorry, but I can’t blow Ransom for you.”
He squeaked in surprise as his phone was snatched from his hand. He turned as Jack, glaring red murder, growled into the phone. “What the FUCK is this about, Birkholtz?”
Bitty could barely hear the “fuck Jack, man, um, nothing....never mind” and then only Jack’s side of the conversation, which consisted of things like:
“Why would you even suggest—?” “There’s no way in hell.” “You damn well know why!” “At this point I don’t give a fuck about Ransom’s insomnia.” And eventually... “Whatever. Ask them. I don’t care. That’s what Frogs are for I guess.”
Jack ended the phone call and tossed the phone back to Bitty. “Do me a favor: don’t answer calls from him anymore, Bittle.”