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IVORY A/N: Yay! More Ciel! As usual, most of the words Ciel says aren't really important, but I should let you know that "la queue" is another word for dick in French. I am just pointing that out because one of his statements might not make sense otherwise.

IVORY

Chapter 11
Dad's Big Sweater.

--

Who would have thought that by Tuesday afternoon, Jacob Cohen would have convinced his older brother - my uncle - James Cohen to let us move in, and by Wednesday Evening, we would be lugging in a few boxes and a couple suitcases? It wasn't too bad leaving home. Rebecca shed a few tears and told dad she'd call him every night. She had even hugged me. We had no goodbye from my mother though. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she was glad to see us go. Still I didn't quite understand what had happened between my parents, but that would have to wait.

My uncle's place was the bottom floor of a triplex, but it was rather big. There were two bedrooms, his room and a guest room. As soon as we arrived, he announced that I would get the guest room, and my father would be stuck with the fold out couch. At first I had thought he was being nice to me but it wasn't much of a surprise when he took that delusion away by saying it was because I looked so delicate, he'd be afraid the couch might spring closed and snap me like a twig. The rest of the place consisted of a living room - with a huge flat screen TV, a small kitchen, and an office.

James Cohen was a lot different from my dad, though they seemed to share the same sense of humor. Where my dad was balding with fading brown hair, my uncle just kept growing in thick, his previously brown hair now accented with a bit of salt and pepper coloring. He stayed in shape with tennis and golf while my dad proudly wore his beer-gut. My dad was a high school gym teacher and football coach while my uncle James was a successful psychiatrist. Even politically they differed. Dad voted Conservative while James voted Bloc Québécois. It's not a mystery who was aging more gracefully. Somehow they got along well.

But despite the man being a psychiatrist, and picking on my size, he was a good guy. I liked him for an uncle. Considering he was the only one I had, since my mom was an only child and he was my dad's only sibling, I considered myself lucky. Maybe it would even be fun to live with him for awhile until my parents worked things out. I had no doubt that they would eventually, my worries from Monday had disappeared now that I had a good nights sleep and was no longer freaking out over everything.

All my sweaters were in the suitcases, and it was a bit of a chilly evening so my dad had lent me one of his. I was carrying a small but heavy box across the small yard toward the triplex. It probably contained books, presumably my dad's school stuff considering neither of us really did much reading beyond what we had to. He was ahead of me with a bigger box of weights and footballs and such things while his brother unloaded another suitcase out of the truck.

The sweater I wore was about 10 sizes too big. I felt like a three year old in a smock. The sleeves were quite a few inches longer then my arms, and drooped down from where I held the box. The bottom hem was down to my knees and the neck hole dropped off to the side exposing my shoulder and the strap of my black tank. Since the sweater was my dad's, it had a Montreal Alouettes logo on it. Apparently that was a football team or something. My hair was down, and remarkably not getting in the way. I never tied the red curls back when it was chilly because I liked to believe that they kept me warmer when down.

"Ivory?"

The name startled me, and I came to a sudden halt and spun around. I hadn't recognized the voice which startled me even more. No familiar faces came into view, and my perplexed gaze landed on a man in his mid twenties with shaggy black hair, in a studded leather jacket and leather pants. Even my dad had stopped by that point and was looking from me to the strange guy and back. He seemed a little taken aback by hearing a stranger call me by my nickname he didn't think anyone called me by anymore.

"Who are you?" I asked the guy, narrowing my brows with suspicion.

"A big fan." He smiled at me with a wink, and leaned against the wall of the next door triplex as his olive green eyes went over me. "I've been fascinated by your performances since your debut. You really have one of the sweetest voices I've ever heard in a man."

My dad stared at me as his brother hefted a big box past him and into the house. "What is he talking about Ike? What performances?"

I blinked at my father a couple times as I quickly scanned my brain for a lie. Any lie. Anything tangible. ANYTHING! And luckily my brain seemed to have one handy. That smart thing. "Didn't I tell you? I go do Karaoke on the weekends sometimes. I guess people actually like me. Who'd of thunk it?" When my dad finally decided to be satisfied with that lie, I brought the box inside and set it by the door. When I went back outside, instead of grabbing something else, I went toward that guy and spoke to him in a voice just quiet enough that the other two men wouldn't hear. "Please, whoever you are, do me a really big favor and not talk about that when my dad and uncle or anyone else I know for that matter are around. I'm not exactly 'out' yet."

He was distracted and I noticed after a moment that he was staring at the sweater that I was seemingly swimming in. "Ivory... On stage you're absolutely stunning. But now up close... Jesus fucking Christ, could you be any cuter?"

"That... What does that have to do with anything? Did you even hear what I said?" Surely I was blushing, but taking compliments like that wasn't exactly my strong suit.

His lip quirked up in a devious smirk. He was rather attractive in a hard rocker, bad boy kinda way with his stubble and his leather. I wouldn't be surprised if his arms were covered in tattoos. Of course, lucky for me considering I'd be living next to him, I had never really been into the uber-bad boy types. Although I did have a bit of a thing for leather. Eddie looked really good in it... I turned to go back to unloading the truck, but he grasped my sleeve to stop me. Afraid that if he tugged hard enough the sweater would come right off, I halted and turned back to face him.

Indeed that smirk was fitting on him. He glanced at my dad who was watching us carefully while he moved in more boxes of sports equipment. In a quiet voice, the guy told me, "I'm Sebastian Sable. You don't have to worry though. If you're still in the closet, I can respect that. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble and not be able to get on stage anymore."

"Thanks... I think." I frowned and pushed his hand off my sleeve. "Now if you don't mind, Sebastian, I would like to go get settled in."

"Alright. I'll see you this weekend then." He smiled and lit a cigarette that I hadn't even noticed he had.

I hesitated before turning my back to him again, but when he didn't stop me, I went back to the truck to see it was all done. With one last glance in the strange guy's direction, I headed into my uncle's home.

--

When I was all moved in - but not unpacked - I jumped on the metro immediately. I didn't want to hang around, and thought maybe my dad could use a little time to talk about the divorce with his older brother. Of all the places I could go, I felt more comfortable at Pasticcio. Everyone at school, even Haley, were too careful with me after I had fainted. They all acted as if I was the most fragile thing in the world, but I wasn't, and their acting like that was just making me feel worse. When I didn't want sympathy, the best person I could go to was Ciel. Hell, someone could have a knife to my throat, and I'd still get no pity from him.

When I got to Pasticcio, I found Lachlan on stage, lip-synching and dancing to some Cher song. He looked more like Cher on steroids, but it was entertaining. When I walked in, I grinned up at him, totally having forgotten that there had ever been tension between us. He was really good at getting the audience worked up.

"R'garde si c'est pas la GRANDE folle qu'arrive."

I turned around to see Ciel approaching me. His words sounded sarcastic, but whatever potentially witty or lame comment he made was lost on me since I hadn't a clue what he said. Did he call me a big deer? I stared at him for a moment then crossed my arms. Maybe being after him for someone who will be real wasn't a good idea. That bully. "If you're gonna talk to me, why not do it in English, otherwise, isn't it kinda pointless?"

"Non. It aggravates you more this way." He wasn't in drag, but he was wearing glittery makeup, which just made him look a little weird... Strangely still handsome though. His eyes scanned over me in my giant sweater, and his brows rose inquisitively. "Why do I get the feeling that you're shrinking?"

"Get off my back, jerk, I was cold." I rolled my eyes and turned my head to watch Lachlan some more.

He paused, looking a little impatient. His smoky blue eyes looked me over as he casually wondered out loud, "I thought the cold only did that to /la queue/." Upon seeing my warning glare, he shrugged and moved past me. "It's good you showed up today. I want to teach you some more things for your new routine."

"New routine? Why a new routine? Why don't I know about this new routine? Who decided this?" I followed him despite my reluctance. "I've already got a few routines so what do I need a new one for?"

"You need to keep your routines /fraîches/, or your fan base will grow bored. Besides, Saturday we're doing an oldies night, and we need someone to do Marilyn Monroe. Yakov is going to do Doris Day, and no one else is pretty enough for Marilyn... We'll have to somehow fit a wig over that hair of yours though."

Marilyn Monroe? He wanted me to be that woman? Not only was that not my kind of music, but they could only expect me to fill the shoes of so many legends before I crashed and burned terribly. But Marilyn Monroe was the classic epitome of sex appeal, and I just couldn't possibly justify her. I stared at him, wondering if he had finally flown the coop. He'd gone nuts. Even Lachlan would do a better Monroe than me because he knew what he was doing, and I was just an amateur. Nor did I know any of her songs... Didn't she sing happy birthday to someone once?

Yakov was definitely more suited to be the legendary woman. Maybe Doris Day - whoever that was - would be more my speed. To say the least, I was a little intimidated by the idea, and confused that no one had told me about this oldies night sooner. Then again, I hadn't exactly had many conversations with Denis lately.

Ciel led me back to the dressing room where it was quieter. He turned to face me and experimentally pushed my hair back and out of my eyes with both his hands as he assessed me. I felt a little like I should have been in a Petri dish, but I didn't complain. He finally spoke, "We'll have to powder your eyebrows, and you'll make a rather scrawny version, but I think you'll do well. Although I'll need to get Yakov to train you voice-wise to be a little deeper and more seductive. But I think once we fit you with a dress, none of that will really matter."

"What? Why?" I pouted a little as he tugged at my sweater. "I don't get it. You don't make sense."

"Faut-y que j'épelle tout pour toi? It won't matter because once I get you in that dress, and teach you a few things; no one will care about your voice. I'm going to make you so hot, even the straight guys in the audience will need a cold shower after your routine."

That was promising. Though I was a little nervous - not to mention doubtful - about something like that happening. Maybe it would be possible with someone like Yakov, but I never could imagine my appearance being anything other than ordinary, even with a ton of makeup. Ordinary guys weren't a turn on to straight guys, even in a dress and lipstick. Or maybe they were. How was I to know what made straight guys tick? My only straight guy friend apparently wasn't so straight.

It then occurred to me. "I don't give a flying rat's ass about straight guys, but if you can make me hot enough to drive Eddie wild, I'll be forever in your debt." I grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him down to my eye level as I gave him a determined hard look. "I'll do anything to make that man want me."

"/Bon/. You can start by letting go of my shirt before you wrinkle it."

I complied and released my grip with a frown. "I'm serious, Ciel! I don't know what to think about him. Sometimes it's like he really likes me, but then it's like he couldn't possibly be less interested, or he looks down on me. I want to get him to the point where he can't stand to keep quiet anymore. Even if it will make him kiss me just once, at least then I'll know! You'd be going insane too if Yakov were doing this to you."

"Doing what? Ignoring his own feelings no matter how intense in order to protect me from myself? Or do you mean playing hard to get?" Ciel offered a sarcastically sweet smile as he straightened out his shirt where my hands had been. "Rest assured I went through plenty of trouble to convince that man that I was worth seeing. But that was different. Yakov barely knew I existed, and certainly wasn't a fan of my temper. You already have Eddie's attention, and you had it long before he had yours. Everyone knows he likes you. Now enough about your annoying problems. We have to talk about something."

"Fine." I was sulking just a little. "What?"

"Tomorrow after whatever classes you may have, since Denis would kill me if I made you skip, meet me here. I'm going to have someone teach you belly dancing."

My eyes widened in disbelief. Maybe I was right. He had gone nuts. "Bah... Belly dancing? Dude, that's for girls! I've never seen a male belly dancer in my entire life. I don't even think I could possibly make my hips move like that. I'm not built for hip work! Nor am I curvy enough for it to look any good."

"Nonsense. After that time we did that number together, I know very well that your hips can, and will, move like that. /Crois-moi/, if you want to torture Eddie by making yourself irresistible to him, than you might as well listen to me. What have you got to lose?" He paused and tried to pull his fingers through my hair. "Didn't Lachlan give you products to fix your hair? Have you been neglecting it still?"

My lip turned up in a childish pout as I stepped away from him. Why did he always have to pick on me like that? Ok maybe I had wanted his bluntness, but after a couple minutes, it just got to the point of being plain insulting. Did he treat Yakov like a toddler too? Probably not. From what I had seen, Yakov was perfectly capable of having even someone as stubborn and merciless as Ciel wrapped around his little finger. Yakov may have been soft spoken and feminine, but he was strong.

"Why shouldn't I?" Apparently my talking automatically caused his eyes to roll. But I kept talking anyway, defiantly keeping my chin up as I glared at him. "Why the hell should I start acting differently and risk my parents and friends getting suspicious? Just because you said so? Ya know, some people think I'm cute like this."

"Cute? Well I suppose in that stray poodle kind of way."

Did he just call me a stray poodle? My mouth dropped open as I tried to think of something to say to that, but what do you say to that? What could possibly save my dignity after that? So instead, I closed my mouth again, and turned to leave the room. Just because I didn't want to be treated as though I were fragile, that didn't mean I wanted to be made fun of. But before I could walk away, he stepped in front of me to cut me off.

"Wait... I cannot guarantee he'll be there Saturday. He is a busy man, you know. I suggest you invite him yourself. Denis is a close friend of his, so you can probably find his cell number on speed dial in the office. Now please take care of your hair. So many drag queens would kill for yours; it would just be cruel to all of them if you don't treat it well. Now get out."

So bossy. I stepped around him to leave, and shut the door quietly behind me. Of course, once out of his sight, I grinned. If he wasn't so angry all the time, and talked so much, he might have been a bit like Eddie. Only Ciel could smile. He often smirked or grinned at other's misfortunes. Ok maybe he wasn't like Eddie at all. Ciel was just cruel, but still, he was cool. Certainly if Yakov could love him, there had to be a nice guy under all that attitude.

--

There was Eddie's cell number in the office; though I was a little surprised I hadn't noticed it before. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Eddie and Denis were friends, since they did know each other when I had first showed up at Pasticcio, but still it was news to me. How could someone tell who was Eddie's friend? Was it just a matter of who he got along with or was there more to it? It wasn't like he would be joking and laughing and playing games with them like I did with my friends. Or maybe he gave all his friends perfume. Was I a friend?

I sat there, staring at the phone as I listened to the muffled music from the performance. The office was semi-sound proofed, but apparently Denis liked to hear that things were going well, so he didn't totally cut the noise down, assuming it would have been possible. It was another Cher song, but it sounded like Lachlan was nearing the end of a medley. Well, the music was getting slower and slower, and it didn't sound like it could get much slower than what it currently was, so it must be ending, right? Or maybe it would end with fast music.

What would I say to him? To Eddie... Maybe nothing. Maybe he'd be too busy to talk to me. I kinda hoped for that, though I really didn't want to be less important than whatever he might me doing. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted to be priority number one to him. It was unreasonable, and highly unlikely. People kept telling me how much he liked me, and maybe there was a bit of evidence to support their assumptions, but what if they were wrong? What if I started to believe them, and then the whole idea was ripped right out from under me. That would be far too painful so I had to be 100% sure before I allowed myself to believe it.

I picked up the phone and pressed the button. The automatic dialing beeped in my ear 7 times, and then there was a pause. It seemed like an eternity before it started to ring, and I hoped with every bit of faith that I might have had if I were religious, that he wouldn't be with Mace. Sure my friend knew about my infatuation with his brother now, but I didn't want to parade it in front of his nose. The rings made my nerves act up, and I wondered briefly if I would have some psychological issues with phones after this. Maybe I already had those issues, since I couldn't seem to have any normal experiences with them.

"Yes?"

The voice that answered was Eddie's of course, but in the background, I could hear men and women shouting instructions and arguing. Sounded like he was busy after all. I bit my lip nervously as I tried to think of something to say. "Hi Eddie. It's me... But it sounds like you have your hands full, and it's not really important so I can call back later."

The noise muffled, as if he were holding his hand over the receiver or something, and then I heard his muffled voice speak loudly and firmly. Somehow he managed to speak over the arguing without shouting, and then the noise of the other people dropped to a murmur, and whatever was muffling it was removed. When he spoke to me again, his voice was soft. "As unimportant as it may be, I would like to know what on earth could provoke Ivory Cohen to call me himself, short of a disaster."

"Well if you're just going to poke fun, forget about it." I pouted into the phone, as if he could see or sense that I was insulted by that. "I don't remember you ever calling me either."

"If you get a cell phone, I will. But I have no desire to have to come up with an excuse to get past your parents in order to talk to you." He was right. I didn't want him calling me at home either. I could maybe lie to my uncle that it was a friend, but my dad knew who Eddie Lonneherr was, and might recognize his voice. That man would definitely have questions as to why a gay model would be calling his son on the phone.

"Alright fine, you win. But I don't have the kind of money for a cell phone. Now I was calling to ask you if you would come watch the show at Pasticcio on Saturday. I'll be doing a new routine and... I guess I want to know what you think when you see it."

He didn't speak for a moment or two, and if it wasn't for the noise in the background, I might have wondered if the line had gone dead or something. But after awhile he finally took a sigh-like breath, and spoke to me again. "Saturday? ... I'll be there."

"Really? You'll come?" I was getting excited, and I swear my grin touched my ears.

"Yes. If it's what you want, you'll get it."

I smiled, amazed how someone so cold and expressionless could be so sweet. If he really couldn't stand my type as he said, then why was he so nice to me? I suspected he was a liar just like his brother. He did like my type, I was sure of it. Or maybe he wasn't cold and expressionless at all. Maybe that was just a mask. "Thank you so much! I can't wait!" It took all my strength to resist shouting out my relief. I would definitely have him wanting me one way or another. If he was there, I could have kissed him... Or maybe not. Probably...

"Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. Do you like me?" Well, it couldn't hurt to try again. After all, he did ask, didn't he?

Once again, there was a wait before his response. "I've already told you." He paused again, as if he were trying to strategically choose his words. "I can't stand guys like you. If you're looking for a confession, you're not going to get one from me today."

My smile disappeared. Alright, so we were back to his detached, cruelly cold attitude. If I didn't know better, I would have listened for a click as he switched that sweet man from before off, and turned on this emotionless jerk. So I gave a frustrated groan as I said, "I never asked if you liked guys like me. I don't care about guys like me in general. I want to know if you have any feelings for me as a person, not as a category. It's not fair, you know I like you, so why won't you tell me how you feel about me?"

"... If that's all you called to talk about, then I should be going now. I have a lot to do tonight. See you later, Ivory."

"But wait--" Before I could say anything to stop him, the line went silent. He had hung up. I clenched my teeth angrily, and put the receiver down. "Bastard!"

TBC... ... ...