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“Little fag.”
As soon as those words left Jimmy Pesto’s mouth, Trev threw the rag he’d been using to wipe down tables with and walked out of the restaurant. He didn’t look back, not even when he heard Jimmy yelling after him asking where he was going. Trev just kept walking down the street, his hands fisted tight at his sides as he struggled to keep down the anger rising inside of him because yeah Jimmy could be a jerk sometimes, but for him to say that? About his own kid??
No.
Trev had put up with a lot of Jimmy's bullshit over the years, but that was crossing a line. Jimmy Jr. was a good kid, sweet and kind when you caught him in the right mood. He tried so hard to make his dad happy, even when it clearly made the kid miserable. That poor boy had done everything to make Jimmy Sr. like him and for what? Just to be called a slur because of who he liked??
What a hypocrite. What an absolute hypocrite. How many times had they hooked up since Jimmy had gotten divorced? How many times had Trev come over and let that jerk use him and his body, only to get kicked out and ignored the next day? Trev had always held onto the hope that maybe…just maybe…one day Jimmy would finally stop pretending to be what he wasn’t and admit that whatever was between them was enough for him.
But it was all in vain, wasn’t it? Jimmy Pesto could never love Trev the way he wanted him to, and Trev was over it. Really and truly this time. He wasn’t going back, not if Jimmy was going to pull this shit with his own kid.
With the rest of the day to kill and nothing to do and nowhere to go, Trev made his way to the Wharf and just shuffled around for a while before making his way to the railing, resting his arms on it with a heavy sigh. He stared out at the ocean, not really seeing it. He had no idea where his life was going to go from here. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Going back to working for Jimmy was out of the question, the pay wasn’t even worth it. He’d need to find a new job first and foremost, he still needed to pay the rent on his studio apartment. It was all he could afford with how little Jimmy had paid him. Ugh, had he really put up with all that crap for years without even getting paid enough? Where was his sense of self-worth??
Clearly he didn’t have one, if he’d let Jimmy freaking Pesto use him for so long.
Trev groaned, one hand going up to rake his fingers roughly through his hair. He needed to figure something out, and fast. But what to do…what to do…
“Hey, pal, you okay?”
The voice to his right nearly made Trev jump out of his skin, and he whirled around to stare at the source as he swallowed down a scream.
A carnie with brown hair and stubble on his chin and upper lip stepped back, his hands flying up. “Easy, there, bud. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” Trev said quickly, turning away as he felt the tips of his ears heating up. “It’s all good.”
“Okay.” The carnie didn’t sound convinced, but when Trev risked a look at him he could tell that the other man wasn’t going to push it. Instead, he lowered his hands until he could push them into the pockets of his jeans as he looked at Trev. “You, uh, doin’ okay there? You look a little…well, down.”
“I’m fine,” Trev said, again probably too quickly. He turned away from the other man, crossing his arms on the railing again as he kept his eyes on the wood. “Just…thinkin’, ya know?”
“I wouldn’t know, I don’t usually do a whole lot of that,” the other guys said, and the humor in his voice made Trev snort out a laugh. Trev glanced to the side in time to watch as the other man leaned back against the rail beside him, making sure to leave plenty of space between them. The carnie looked over, catching Trev’s eye as he arched a brow. “Hey, don’t I know you? You’re, uh,” he snapped his fingers, trying to think, “you’re…oh!” The carnie’s eyes lit up with recognition. “You’re the guy who works for Jimmy Pesto! Tray! Wait, no, uh, Trav! No, shit, uh–”
“Trev,” Trev offered with a grimace. “And, uh, I don’t work for him anymore.”
“Oh.” The carnie’s brows shot up to his hairline. “He fire you?”
Trev shook his head, looking back at the water. “No. I walked out.”
“Oh. Shit. That bad?”
Trev nodded, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Yeah. That bad.”
It was quiet for a long moment before the carnie spoke again, his voice low with contempt. “If it helps, I never liked the guy. Too arrogant for his own good. And such a dick to his kids.”
A dark chuckle left Trev’s mouth. “You have no idea,” he muttered.
“What’d he do?”
“Called his son a fag,” Trev spat, wrinkling his nose with contempt.
“What a piece of shit.” Trev looked over to see the carnie scowling down at the boardwalk. “And a fuckin’ hypocrite. I know he’s fucked Marshmellow before. She deserves better.” The man looked over at Trev, sincerity in his voice as he said, “You deserve better. Glad you got out.”
For some reason that made Trev flush red down to his toes, and he quickly looked away as he managed to get out, “Thanks.” Then he shook his head, reeling himself in as he continued, “I just gotta find another job now. Guess I need to brush off the ol’ resume.” He laughed weakly as the thought of having to job search made his gut clench. He’d been working for Jimmy for so long he forgot what it was like to do anything else. What if he was no good at anything except being some douchebag’s lackey?
Silence stretched between them for a bit before the carnie spoke up again. “You know…if you want, I can try to talk to my boss. See if there aren’t any openings down here on the Wharf.”
Trev blinked at him, eyes wide. “Isn’t the Wharf owned by Mr. Fischoeder?”
“Working for him really isn’t that bad,” the carnie said quickly, looking back at him. “Sure, not every job you do for him may exactly be legal, but he pays you for your time. And,” his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, “he doesn’t call anyone a fag. Fischoeder doesn’t care who or what you like, so long as you’re willing to work. And,” one side of his mouth quirked up, “I have it on good authority that he doesn’t care much for Jimmy Pesto.”
For some reason Trev couldn’t afford to think too deeply about right now, the news made Trev smile. “You think he has room for one more carnie on his roster?”
“He always has room for more carnies,” the other man grinned, pushing off the rail and turning to Trev. “So? Whaddya say? Want me to go talk to him?”
“Is he here today?”
“Yeah, he’s by the Scream-o-cane. Can’t get enough of it lately. I think he likes the rush.”
Trev took a moment to consider it. Jimmy had always considered the carnies to be trash, lower than dirt. Trev had lost count of how many times Jimmy Pesto would rant and rave about the no good carnies and how he wished Fischoeder would stop hiring such disgusting people to work on the Wharf. “It looks bad for business!” he would whine – literally whine – during tourist season.
But any time Trev had gotten to talk to one of the carnies, they seemed like good people. And this guy especially seemed like he really meant everything he said. For some reason…Trev felt like he could trust him.
“Yeah,” Trev found himself nodding, turning around to face the carnie. “I’d like that. Thanks…” He felt his face heat up. “Shit, I never asked your name, sorry.”
The carnie let out a hearty laugh. “It’s all good. Name’s Mickey.” He held out a hand to him, his eyes shining. “Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Trev.”
Trev took the man’s hand, trying to ignore the way his firm grip made his pulse skip a beat as he gave it a shake. “Nice to meet you, Mickey.”
Mickey let go and nodded over his shoulder. “Wanna come with me to talk to the boss? Fair warning, he might make us ride the coaster with him a few times.”
“Been awhile since I went on a ride,” Trev said cheerfully, following Mickey over to the Scream-o-cane as they went to talk to Mr. Fischoeder.
As it turned out, with tourist season just around the bend Mr. Fischoeder had plenty of openings for more carnies. Trev was hired on the spot and told to be there the next day for training so that he could get started ASAP. Trev went home that day with a new spring in his step, looking forward to this new chapter in his life.
And it totally wasn’t because of the cute guy who’d convinced him to work there, nope, no way.
In an unusually fortunate turn of events, it turned out that Mickey was the one training Trev. He showed him how to work all the rides and what vendors they would be running, along with all the ways to keep people from winning the various games on the Wharf. “It’s not honest, but it makes the money,” Mickey shrugged when Trev questioned the ethics of intentionally rigging the games. “Besides, some kids still figure out how to win. You hear about Louise Belcher winning the wheely mammoth a few years back?”
Trev had heard the story, but pretended he hadn’t so that Mickey could tell him all about it. He liked hearing the carnie talk, his voice just the perfect amount of rough to send a slight shiver down his spine. He had a nice smile, too, even if he was missing a couple of teeth. And he always smelled nice.
Not that Trev was really noticing, no. It was just…facts. Yeah. Facts.
Mickey took Trev under his wing at the Wharf, making sure that no one messed with him. Which Trev was grateful for, since he could admit that he could be a bit naive sometimes. The other carnies warmed up quicker to him because of that as well and Trev found himself befriending most of them before he could even think about it. Jimmy Pesto had been wrong about the carnies, though that really wasn’t a surprise. Jimmy had been wrong about a lot of things, it turned out.
Jimmy also didn’t seem to like the fact that Trev really wasn’t coming back to him. He called and texting Trev so many times that Trev ended up having to block his number just to be able to function. He couldn’t help but feel upset that of course now that he was gone, Jimmy wanted him back. It was such typical behavior for Jimmy Pesto, wanting what he couldn’t have. Not that he’d ever really had Trev, he just liked using him. Trev could see that now that he was away from him.
He just hoped that Jimmy Jr. and the twins were okay. He felt awful about leaving them there alone with their dad. But he couldn’t go back…he just couldn’t. Not if he wanted to stay sane.
One weekend down at the Wharf, Trev was stationed at one of the rides and it earned them so much money that Mr. Fisch congratulated him face to face. It was such a rush, and that night Mickey and the rest of the carnies invited him down to Carnieapolis to celebrate with them. Trev went, and it was the most fun he’d had in years. He spent the whole night glued to Mickey’s side, trying not to preen or blush too hard when the man kept complimenting him for his work and wrapping his arm around Trev’s shoulders. It was such a rush, and Trev went home with the biggest smile on his face.
Okay, so he could admit that he had a crush on Mickey. Who wouldn’t, with the way he’d been treating Trev since they’d met? Mickey treated him like an equal, like he was someone worth talking to and having around. It was so different from Jimmy, and Trev could clearly see how much better off he was now.
That he would ever tell Mickey, god no. He didn’t think the man was straight, but even so there was no way someone as cool as Mickey could be interested in someone like him.
The next day Trev was riding his high as he made his way to the Wharf, humming as he turned to go in–
And nearly ran head on into Jimmy Pesto.
Shit.
The man opened his mouth to yell, then stopped when he saw who it was, his eyes wide. “Trev?? Where the hell have you been??”
In a second Trev felt every muscle in his body tense and he stepped back. “I–”
“You stupid, selfish prick! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?! It’s been impossible to run things by myself! You think I have the time to train new hires at the high of tourist season?! Did you even think about how this was going to affect me before you just up and left?!”
Trev wanted to move, wanted to say something, but all he could do was stand there frozen as Jimmy continued to hurl insult after insult at him.
“–always knew you were worthless and stupid, but I didn’t think you’d actually ever prove it to me! Well, congratulations, pal, you’re the dumbest piece of shit I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing! Why, I oughtta–!”
Then a firm body was planting itself right in front of Trev and a rough voice said lowly, dangerously, “I suggest you back off now, if you know what’s good for you.”
Mickey . Relief flooded over Trev, and without thinking he reached out to grip the back of the man’s shirt in his shaking hands.
“Excuse me?! Do you have any idea who I am?!”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” Mickey was practically snarling now. “I know Mr. Fisch kicked your ass out of Wonder Wharf years ago, Pesto. All of us carnies know to not let you in. So just turn around and go back to your pathetic excuse of a restaurant now.”
Jimmy’s voice turned vengeful. “So you’re a carnie now, Trev? I should have known you’d degrade yourself further, you ungrateful–”
Before Jimmy Pesto could say anymore, Mickey’s knee went up to jab into the man’s gut, making Jimmy cry out and double over in pain. Mickey bent down to get in his face as he growled, “That’s a warning. Get the hell out of my sight.”
Jimmy managed to straighten up enough to stumble away, though not before throwing one last nasty look over his shoulder to Trev.
Before Trev could gather his bearings, Mickey grabbed his hand and pulled him through the gates, leading him to a deserted corner before putting his hands on Trev’s shoulders, his eyes searching Trev’s with so much concern that it made his heart flutter. “Hey. You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Trev shook his head, unable to speak as he finally felt himself trembling all over. Huh. When had that started?
Mickey’s brows pinched together. “Did he always say shit like to you? Even when you were together?”
“We were never together,” Trev managed to choke out.
“But you were fucking, right?” Mickey asked.
Trev nodded, looking away as he felt his face color with shame. “Yeah. I know it’s pathetic–”
“Stop.” Mickey’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “Trev, don’t degrade yourself. Don’t stoop to his level. It’s not your fault you fell for a jerk.”
“I knew how he was,” Trev insisted, humiliation making his eyes start to well up. “I knew and I let him use me anyways because I wanted him to like him. I let him say so much heinous shit and didn’t do anything about it. I’m just as bad.” His eyes clenched shut and his hands fisted as his sides. “He’s right. I am stupid.”
The silence that followed made his heart drop into his ass and he started to step back, unable to take the reality that Mickey must have finally seen him for what he really was–
Only for Mickey to wrap his arms tight around Trev, pulling him against his chest. “You’re not,” the man murmured to him, sending electricity racing through Trev’s veins. “You’re not stupid, Trev. And you’re not pathetic.” His hold on Trev tightened. “And I never wanna hear you say that again. Okay? You’re a great guy and you deserve so much better than Jimmy fucking Pesto.”
Overwhelmed, all Trev could do was bury his face in Mickey’s shoulder as he returned the embrace, clinging to the other man.
Trev wasn’t sure they stood like that, hugging, but it wasn’t until they heard the voices of the other carnies that they finally drew away from each other. Mickey kept a hand on Trev’s shoulder as he wiped at his face, the carnie’s eyes soft as they looked at him. “Feeling up to today?” Mickey asked, his thumb rubbing light circles against Trev’s shoulder. “I can tell the other guys you’re not feeling well, we’ll find someone to cover for you.”
Trev shook his head. “No, I wanna work. It’ll take my mind off of… that .”
Mickey nodded slowly. “Okay. If you need a break, just let me know, okay?” Then his hand trailed down Trev’s arm, stopping right before he got to his hand. “This okay?” he asked, his voice low.
Once again unable to form words, Trev just nodded.
Mickey smiled as he took Trev’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he gently tugged him towards where the other carnies were gathering. Trev felt so light that he wasn’t sure his feet were still on the ground.
Things were finally looking up.