Page 29 of The Devil’s Feather

Deandra fussed him into leaving me alone. As I stuffed clothes into a bag, Annie peppered Rafael with questions too rapid-fire to answer.

“Is that your real hair color? How tall are you? What instruments do you play? Is one like, your favorite? Have you written anything I would know?”

From the increasing sharpness of Rafael’s tone as she rambled right over his answers, she was steadily annoying the fuck out of him. And me. And probably Dee as well. I packed faster.

Once upon a time, I’d feared Deandra’s temper the most, but Rafael had already freely warned me he’d hit a woman if she pushed him far enough. I didn’t want to test those limits tonight.

The shower drowned out some of their conversation. Hot water woke me up and focused me.

“Annie,” Deandra barked. Yep, there it was. “Let the man breathe, damn. Where are you from, Rafael?”

“Türkiye, but I am an American citizen now. I have lived in California for the last 20-odd years, mostly in the city.” Good, good, getting ahead of some of the pointless questions.

“I knew I detected an accent!” Annie crowed. Her chair scraped the floor.

Jesus. I scrubbed my ass as fast as humanly possible.

“English is my fourth language.” Ok good. Rafael didn’t sound offended.

Both women made impressed noises.

Annie piped up again. “Wait, how are you a redhead if you’re a Turk?”

Oh my fucking god.

Naturally, the soap clung to me for dear life, no matter how I rinsed. Damned soft water!

“Annie!” Dee sounded exhausted. “That’s like saying Black people can’t be redheads. The fuck?”

“Well, I didn’t know!”

Annie meant well, but she had zero filter and no concept of when she was being offensive. I was trying to help her overcome her religious trauma and strictly conservative upbringing like I had. It was a messy process. Annie tried to do better once she learned better, but she often got a little too creative in learning the hard way. She was also so adorably flirty that most people instantly forgave her social blunders.

Rafael, however, was not swayed. “Keep pushing. I can read you for filth in seven languages. Nine, if conversational fluency counts.” The sheer diva in his deep voice curled my hair.

“Wow, that was really sassy.” A pause, then Annie blurted, “Are you gay?”

I burst into the Millennial-grey dining room to see Rafael seated, pushed back from the table, and grinning like a shark. My two housemates sat across from him. Between them, a frog-shaped teapot and four cups remained untouched. Deandra really had made tea.

Rafael folded his hands behind his head, winging out his impressive lats. “Half-gay, on my mother’s side.”

Deandra snort-laughed. “Ok, I like you.”

Annie tilted her head like a confused dog.

Dee elbowed her in the side. “He’s saying he’s bisexual, Annie. Keep up.” To Rafael, she said, “Cheers, queer. I’m omni, or pan, or whatever label you like better. Don’t much matter to me.”

Annie’s eyes widened with the realization. “Oh, Elaine will like that. She says she hates straight men. I could never, though. What if you left me for another man? I’d never get over it.”

I made a horrified noise. And here I thought I’d eaten a lot of foot lately, holy shit.

Rafael’s voice dripped venom. “Good thing I have zero desire to fuck you.”

Aghast, Annie’s hand flew to her throat. “That is so rude!”

Dee swatted her on the back of the head. To Rafael, she said, “Ignore Miss Motormouth. She only dates Boomers, and you know how they are. Clearly, she’s been spending too much time around them.”

Rafael nodded sagely. “Ah, daddy issues. You know a lot of Boomer men are DL, right? Closeted, but still sucking dick in secret?”