“I don’t know why we have to keep going to court,” he mumbles. “If she had the balls to try anything, I think it would have happened by now.” I think he’s right, but I don’t tell him so. Not until Bear and I can be sure. And we won’t be sure until the Kid legally belongs to Bear. It shouldn’t be that much longer, at least according to the attorney. The judge had tried to throw a little fit about the whole power of attorney thing (“This illegally obtained power of attorney was acquired with an exchange of cigarettes?”), but Erica Sharp of the illustrious Weiss, Goldstein, and Eddington had grinned her shark-like grin and tore the judge a new asshole. It was brutal to watch, especially when she trotted out the Kid like a show dog and the Kid had hammed it up by giving his best Oliver Twist “Please, sir, can I have some more?” look that he does so well. His eyes were wide and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and I swear to God I could hear the judge’s heart melting from where I sat in the galley twenty feet away. Hell, I almost stood up and demanded to adopt the Kid myself right then. He was that good.
The social worker visits have gone well, no matter the Kid’s observations of her heritage. He’s not stupid and is always on his best behavior when she’s here. I had wondered before her first visit if she would have said anything about Bear and me. But of course, she didn’t bat an eye when she walked in on Bear kissing me sweetly, even when Bear started blushing and grumbling to himself about getting caught. She’s probably seen shitloads worse in other homes to worry about two guys kissing.
“We’ll see,” I tell the Kid. “Just go easy on Frau Ehrlichmann.”
The Kid goes to the fridge and pulls out his after-school snap peas. “Everything ready for tonight?” he says, tactfully changing the subject.
I sigh. “As ready as it’ll ever be.” I reach down and pat the two small objects in my front pocket. For the thousandth time in the last hour. “Are you sure about this?”
He crunches on the vegetables and looks at me. “Are you?”
I nod once.
He shrugs. “Well, then, of course I’m sure.” He pauses and then snickers. “Papa Bear’s gonna freak out. I wish I could be here to see it,” he adds wistfully.
“Thanks, Kid. As if I wasn’t nervous enough already,” I growl at him.
He laughs. “You’ll do fine. You get everything I said to?”
I nod again.
“And you have what we wrote?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? You really think I should say that?”
The Kid smiles. “Seriously. You think he’ll get the hidden meaning in it?”
“Kid, you may be the smartest person alive, but a master of subtlety you are not.”
He starts to walk toward his room. “With Bear,” he says over his shoulder, “you kind of have to be blatant. Otherwise, he’ll miss the whole point.”
“And that’s the point of what I’m about to do?” I yell after him.
“I can’t hear you!” he yells back. The little liar. “I have to get ready before Mrs. Paquinn gets here. And you need to go get dressed. I got your suit ready this morning.”
I groan and sit down at the table, feeling the two small pieces of metal press against my thigh. I pull out my wallet and find the slip of paper the Kid had stuck in there a couple of days ago. We had spent hours agonizing over it, but in the end, got it just right, at least according to the Kid. I grin to myself as I read over the words I’ve long since memorized.
The Kid is right: Bear’s gonna freak.
Bear! Bear! Bear!
I’ve something to say! Don’t be scared!
Bacon is bad! Beef is wrong!
Mad Cow Disease stays with you for a time that’s long!
I want you to be mine, can’t you see?
That’s why I am down, down on my knee!
It may not yet be legal,
but it’s better than eating a beagle,
so won’t you please marry me?