Groom Wars

5. Blonde Giant's Cage

Leandro's head throbbed painfully. Social events often tired him out. He wanted to run away from the ball his father was hosting, but found himself rooted in place, held down by the responsibilities he bore. He had never imagined that the king would have given his father the title of an earl, and he could only imagine what his father had done to be given such a prestigious rank when they shared no blood relations with the royal family. He sat on the chair the unnamed ghost had vacated. He massaged his aching temple and asked, "Michael, why were you torturing the poor ghost like that?"

Michael leaned against the wall and, playing with the cuff of his shirt, said, "There is a rumor going around that he's not a whole man—I heard some of the guests whispering about him as he was walking in. What do you think that means?"

"Any number of things. He could have been born intersex, or he might have been genetically mutilated or have some kind of hormone issue that leads to fertility problems. Whatever it is, it's none of our business and you shouldn't bug him about it. We are all entitled to our own privacy."

"Hmm...." Michael was only fifteen and didn't fully understand how bodies functioned. He likely didn't understand half of the terms Leandro had mentioned.

Leandro rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the dizzy feeling that plagued him, but the voices around them continued to buzz and pierce the sanctity of his mind. Perhaps he should have dressed like a butler as well. He likely wouldn't have gotten away with it as his father revelled in putting him on display like some kind of trophy. A few years ago, their father had made Leandro have sex with a prospective client's daughter to land the case. Remembering it made Leandro feel dirty. He was less of a son and more of a tool.

On the other hand, Michael was average in looks, academics, and sports, so his parents paid little to no attention to him. In that way, Michael was freer than Leandro, and Leandro envied him. But sometimes, he knew Michael wished to be the subject of their parent's affections. Sometimes.

Leandro glanced at the ghost, who was more beautiful than the rest of the bodies that filled the room. He had an alluring face, and the gentle curve of his chin had been drawn by a light, steady hand. The ghost's eyes, from afar, were dark. Up close, they were hazel, greyish-green with flecks of gold. The ghost's pink lips parted as he sighed. Beads of sweat on the boy's caramel skin trapped reflections of the overhead lights as he rubbed the black coils of hair atop his head in irritation.

A glum demeanor took hold of the ghost as he walked back to the boys. The girl waited behind him, a triumphant look on her face. The ghost, avoiding Leandro's gaze, said, "You should dance with her."

Leandro said, "And if I do, will you owe me a favour?"

The ghost hesitated for a moment, his expression a mask of conflicting emotions. His gaze met Leandro's.

"Perhaps."

"Should we exchange numbers?" Leandro was drawn to the boy. Not in a romantic way. Not because he was beautiful, but because it had been a while since Leandro had smiled, so he was grateful to the ghost. The ghost had gotten rid of some of the gloom that had been plaguing Leandro with his lighthearted banter, and Leandro thought they could possibly be friends.

Leandro admitted that touching the boy's cheek had been odd and out of character and had charged the air between them with some electricity that had quickly vanished when they had looked away from each other. The brief contact with those electric sensations had made Leandro's chest feel stuffy and uncomfortable, so he decided not to think about it. It had been a simple touch to affirm that the boy was real. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Leandro analyzed more of the boy's character. The ghost mostly had a sunny, playful disposition that was charming, but sometimes there was a darkness there as well, hidden for the most part, but it occasionally rose to the surface. The ghost also didn't seem keen to take advantage of Leandro's social position and was open to keeping his distance if it pleased Leandro, which some of the ladies here had a hard time understanding. Because of that, Leandro decided he liked the boy. The ghost took out his phone, and they exchanged numbers. After successfully receiving the text, the ghost left without sharing his name.

Michael said, "So, will you investigate to see what's wrong with him? Do tell me what you find." Before Leandro could chastise him, Michael stalked off, bored and seeking some other form of amusement.

Alone, Leandro decided to keep his promise to the ghost and went over to the blonde girl and asked her to dance. She was beautiful, but her entitlement definitely brought down her score. He wasn't obliged to dance with her, and he had never seen her before this day and didn't wish to see her again. But because he had made a promise to the ghost, he would entertain this lady's whims. She blushed at his inquiry and said she would love to dance with him. She said it would be the greatest honour of her day; something she would frame and remember for months to come.

His hand held her narrow waist as he led her towards the dance floor. He held her in a steady frame as they waltzed in time to the music coming from the overhead speakers. He spun and caught her with a melange of expertise and boredom that said he had done this many times before with many different women. As Leandro's father, and his new, pretty young wife, that had replaced the boys' mother, watched Leandro and the girl dance, it took every ounce of restraint Leandro possessed not to drop the girl on her head and storm out the room like an enraged teenager.

At twenty years old, Leandro had to keep a mature countenance to avoid shaming himself or his family. The thought of his mother sitting in a shelter for divorced women enraged him. He didn't know how well they looked after her or if she was well-fed. If she was happy. When he visited, she always smiled, but Leandro didn't know if she was simply putting on a show to ease her son's worries or if she was honest. He suspected the former.

Leandro's father had told the boys not to visit her, or they wouldn't receive a penny, but Leandro still snuck out once in a while to see her and hold her wrinkled hand. Leandro swore that someday he would make enough money to leave his father and buy a house for his mother.

Instead of giving in to his anger, Leandro finished the dance, bowed to his partner, handed her off to a stunned Michael, who was still pretending to be a butler, but grudgingly accepted her hand. Leandro knew Michael was fuming at the betrayal but was too tired to care. Their father announced that after a closer look, the strange-looking butler was actually his third and missing son, Michael, and the guests had a good laugh. The girl seemed to glow in the attention, smiling as the crowd watching her grew.

With the focus off him, Leandro slipped out the room as quietly and as stealthily as he could. He wondered if the ghost was still lingering somewhere nearby but didn't see him in the hallway, so Leandro went to his room and picked up a piece of blue paper from the dresser and busied himself with making a rose. As he creased, folded, and manipulated the paper over and over, it took his mind off his father and the cage he was currently trapped in. But once the rose was made and placed on the dresser among a dozen others, the cage came into focus once more.

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