Bowie LeBlanc

It was often that he wished that Winnie Maddox’s case had never passed his desk. A tragic story of a woman hurt by powerful men, it tugged at his heart string and propelled him to action. He cared about all his cases- as much as any man who did a job when his heart wasn’t in it could be- but this one… Perhaps it was the protective part of him, the one that just wanted what was best for the people in his life. The gentleman that his mother had raised him to be. He had risked his career and his reputation to make sure she received justice- and she did, former Judge Howell would only receive seven years behind bars, but he was finished in the eyes of the public- but most of all he risked his relationship with Bowie. How many times had he disappointed them with his work? How many times had he put his father’s dreams ahead of them just so he could revel in that adolescent need for his approval? Where did that get him? Alone, disgraced and unhappy, with only a dog to greet him in his empty apartment. 

He would suffer in just having their presence, a sweet sort of agony. Like having gold at your fingertips and not being allowed to feel the soft metal, like having the sun shine above you and not being able to revel in it’s heat. Bowie was all of that. And he was content to just bask in their glow if they would let him. “That’s the difference between you and me,” He flittered playfully, truly meaning nothing by it. “I gotta… Build something. You know? I wanna make sure my mom and my pops are good when the time comes and I can’t do that with the struggling writer look…” Isaac didn’t know why it sounded like he was desperately trying to explain himself. There wasn’t a reason to, was there? Bowie understood, or at least he hoped they did. He took another sip of his drink, a small smile on his lips. This was what he loved about them even though it also frustrated the hell out of him. They always tried to pull words out of him. Words that he was content to let live on paper, but they wished to him them out loud and he would indulge them, of course. “Poetry.” He said, tilting his head. “Uh, don’t laugh. I spend my days looking at legal documents, I’ve just been needing some… creativity in my life. Some color.” He turned to look at them. “You know, like you.”

-

Bowie has never really been the sort of person who bites their tongue. They firmly believed in saying what they thought or how they felt, because suppression is good for absolutely no one. But it’s always been different with Isaac, and sitting across from him now, they keep all the words that surface to themself. Mostly, they’re too tired, both in a literal, present sense and in a way that stretches far beyond this coffeeshop. It’s the same dead horse they spent so much time beating towards the end of their relationship. What’s the point of arguing about it again now, this time over tea and pastries as exes? It’s the last thing Bowie wants to do or even talk, especially considering it pertains to his momma, but more specifically, his goddamn daddy. “I remember,” They say simply in response to his constant need to explain himself as they reach for their tea again, taking a sip. What they want to say, however, and maybe they will, is that this matter of wanting to build something and wanting to provide for and take care of his parents doesn’t make him special. It’s a basic human desire. Hell, Bowie wants to build something. They want to make sure their momma’s good when the time comes too. Difference is, they never felt the need to sacrifice or change or compromise who they are in order to make these things happen. 

They laugh as they place their mug back onto the table, ready, willing, and eager to move on. “Poetry don’t got a name?” Bowie teases him in spite of themself, tilting their head right back at him as a smile pulls at their lips. They roll their eyes, their smile growing as Isaac speaks. “Oh like me, huh?” They ask, looking at him for a beat longer. It should be a shame how he’s still able to warm the same heart he broke. “Why would I laugh at that? You know I love creativity and color,” They add, gesturing before letting their hands settle in their lap.

He’s never going to turn anyone making him food. It was as simple as that, but he also knew that Bowie could cook. It wasn’t like he was tossing a dice to see where it would land, he knew they could cook.  “Smell’s good in here. What are we eating?” He asked as he came back into the kitchen, “I know, kid’s gonna be six foot by this time next week.” He hoped not but he knew that Ryan was notoriously getting bigger. “Not really, unless you cut it up real nice. We’re not tryin’ to give him too much change at once.” Well, in this case it was just him but he always said we as if there he wasn’t raising Ryan on his own. “Thank you again for doin’ this,” He appreciated this, knowing that they didn’t have to do this for him or Ryan. “I really appreciate it. I know you’re busy and stuff, so it’s nice of you to take time outta your day for us. Ryan’s gonna appreciate it, especially as he gets older. Right now, I’m not really sure he knows what’s going on.” 

-

“Just some jambalaya, and not to brag, baby, but nobody make jambalaya better than me,” Bowie teases, smiling at Wes before turning their attention back to the pot. It’s just a joke, really. Everybody in the LeBlanc family swear up and down they all make the best something, but Bowie can definitely keep up with the best of them in the kitchen. They learned from being a child watching their momma, and their maw maw, and their teedy cook, and so they believe kids absolutely belong in the kitchen. And even though Ryan’s not going to retain any of this, it’s why they have him attached to their hip. “No, don’t say that! He gotta stay a baby forever,” They laugh, though they know that’s nothing more than wishful thinking. It seemed the little boy got bigger every time they saw him. “Alrighty, I was just checkin’. And baby, you don’t have to thank you. If I didn’t wanna do this for y’all, I wouldn’t be here,” They chuckle. “Grab some plates for me. I think we ready,” Bowie glances over at him, grinning. 

❀

“No but I think we should like pitch that to someone because it would’ve definitely gotten me in the store in the first place. We’re going to be fucking rich, baby,” she assures Bowie. Inevitably, Izzy could only focus on something for so long and washers and dryers were not that. She wanted to focus on things like the new lingerie that she could wear to welcome Wyatt into their new home or the shoes she’d wear when she inevitably had to do some work rather than spend so much time designing a dream house. “Thank you,” she smiles, adjusting one of the shoes again, trying to keep it from creating yet another blister on her scarred ankle. Izzy was used to the worst of the worst in heels and she braved them effortlessly but not today. “Prettier. I mean how the fuck do you do that?” she asks them. Bowie had always been incredibly beautiful— Izzy couldn’t help but be jealous. “Well I don’t know if I told you or if you heard but I finally caved and now I’m a partner or whatever. Then Wyatt went and bought us a house for fuck’s sakes. Like, what? I definitely did not see any of that coming. I mean we were just fucking and then he’s like ‘I love you’ or whatever and now we have a house. Who am I?”

-

“Baby, take them things off before ya ass start bleedin’. It’s just us in here,” Bowie laughs, watching Izzy as she readjust her heels. They definitely don’t envy her. They know the pain of trying to work with a pair of shoes that bite back. Needing new platforms will always have them ready to quit The Dive altogether, because the thought alone of having to break in the shoes stresses them out. Even being a dancer, they haven’t found any tips or tricks that definitely work, but if they knew any, they’d pass the information along to Izzy. But Bowie laughs again, even more amused when she says they’ve gotten prettier. It’s no secret that Iz is gorgeous, that Bowie thinks Iz is gorgeous. When they were first transitioning, that sort of validation and affirmation from someone so genuinely beautiful would’ve meant the world to them. In a way, it still does. “My maw maw use to say when you livin’ right you start glowin’ from the inside, so baby, I be tryin’ to live right and that shit ain’t easy,” Bowie teases, shrugging before dropping their arms into their lap. “Wait, wait, wait, for real?” They ask, their mouth falling open at the news before turning into a smile. It is news to them - Izzy and Wyatt’s situation, but they couldn’t be happier for her. “Look at you being all domestic and shit. How it feel?”

-

“I really loooooove their vibe.” He accentuated back to them with a quick roll of his eyes. River throws an arm around Bowie when they sit with them. Fingers delicately fix a wayward curl on the back of their head and smooth it in with the rest. “Have you met Cat? I should probably bring her by so you can. Hot biker women are a new level of experience.” He exhaled a pleasant sound, just the thought of her filled him with butterflies from the tip of his toes all the way to his nose. If Bowie approved it meant that there was no need for reservation. River didn’t have the level of intuition they did. Even if he was more in tune with some things, it was certainly not as in depth as them and he had a habit of being thrown off by all the substances he ingested on a regular basis. Though some brought more enlightenment, it was hard to weed through what was real and what wasn’t. “Anyways, what’s new with you? It feels like forever since we worked together.” Even though they worked at all the same places. Sometimes it felt like their schedules didn’t match up and even at home they barely got to say more than a few words to each other before one person was running out the door or heading to bed.

-

Bowie sighs, relaxing against River and leaning into him. “I’ve met her, yeah,” They say, absently nodding their head a little. “She been by Hex before,” They go on, leaving the rest to some level of vagueness. Whatever they discussed with Cat would stay between the two of them, and if River somehow finds out about the incident it won’t be from them. “She’s a beautiful girl,” Bowie makes sure to add truthfully as they lift their head, a smile easing across their face as they look at River. 

Bowie gives River a pointed look before laughing, sinking a little lower into their seat and folding their arms across their chest. “Baby, ain’t shit new for me,” They shrug, settling into a smile before chuckling again. Maybe it’s not a bad thing, but life has been sort of stale for them. Nothing new. Nothing disrupting or challenging. Life has fallen into a routine, one where they split their time between Hex, The Dive, and Restricted Access. “But apparently you got a whole lot of shit new with you. What else you not telling me?” Bowie teases River as they gently nudge him with their shoulder.

"At the end of the day, baby, I'm still human. Everybody and they momma insecure about somethin'. I'm not immune to any of this shit. But for me, ya know, it's when I'm meeting somebody new, somebody I'm tryin' to get to know maybe romantically, and I have to tell them I'm trans. And like, I'm very comfortable in me and my trans identity, but ya know. That shit can be dangerous sometimes. And it's like, you tell them, and you're holding your breath to see how they're about to respond or react. And I'm like, well damn. I know I'm sexy. I know I'm a good person. I know I have a heart that has a lot to offer. Am I less desirable now that you know I'm trans? That's where the insecurity come in at, baby. Somehow being less deserving of love for that very reason. But then, ya know, it goes away. I don't wanna give no motherfucker access to me who not ready, willing, and able to love every single part of me."

Bowie wanted to be a costume designer! They dropped out spring semester of their sophomore year, but they went to the Pratt Institute for Fashion Design with an emphasis in Costume Design. As much as they loved it, it just wasn't for them. But even now, Bowie make a lot of their own clothes or upcycle things they find at thrift stores. They also make a lot of their costumes for The Dive.

"I got a real bad habit of taking on everybody else's shit, and in Olympus, there is a lot of shit to deal with damn near all the time. Settin' up a boundary or a space or somethin' to deal with me and my own stuff before dealin' with anybody else's can be hard for me. But I do know I try solvin' everybody else problems as a distraction from my own. I'm tryin' to get my shit together, though. Tryin' not to wear myself too thin."

"Baby, I don't think I could be more satisfied with my life if I tried. The things I want, I have - for the most part. The people I love and care about most are alive and well. I know this town got a lot of people fucked up, but I'm happy."

"I mean...he's one of my best friends, so it's good to have him back in my life. But I can't lie to you, baby, if this shit was a year ago, I don't know if I could stand being around him. It would hurt too bad, but it's easier now. To answer your question, though, I'd say yes in a heartbeat if he wanted to do this whole relationship thing again. But if just friends is all there is left for us, then I'm alright with that too. I've tried living without him in my life, and I never wanna have to do that again."

"Honestly, baby, I don't know if I'd change a damn thing. Everything that has or hasn't happened to me, it all makes me who I am today. If the idea is that we, all of us, are just the Universe experiencing itself in different ways, or that our souls chose this particular life to learn lessons to carry us on into the next life, then I don't wanna change anything. And yeah, that includes my relationship with Isaac. Do I wish things had been different, that we were still together? Of course I do, more than anything, but it is what it is."

"Sula by Toni Morrison, baby. Hands down. Without a doubt. For one, Miss Toni has such a beautiful and poetic way of writing. Two, there's so much to explore. Racism. Gentrification. Sexuality. Identity. Blackness. Womanhood. How we view womanhood within Blackness. Community and the othering that happens within a community for the sake of preservation. Morality. What is 'good'? What is 'evil'? Who the enemy actually is vs. who or what we decide it is and how harmful that can be, etc. I love it."

"I think how comfortable I am with me. It took a long time and a lot for me to get to this place. Being a person who first came out as a trans woman and then later as nonbinary, baby, if I spent all day worried about other people and what they think of me or worried about their validation, I would crack up and die. Like I know that shit would kill me, but it don't. I know I'm not everybody cup of tea, but I'm my cup of tea. That's all that matters. That's what I like most about me."

"Lots of purple, yellow, pink, and blue. Some orange in there too. Oh, and some green from my plants. Ain't no sorta structure to it, baby. None of my shit match, but it all work together somehow. Walls are like a royal blue. Curtains are golden yellow. Bedsheets are fuchsia. No carpet, but I got a rug that's burnt orange."

@bowieleblanc​

It’s not uncommon to find Izzy missing from Restricted Access lately. She’d been busy but she needed the cash today, so she finds herself fixing up the makeup of one of the stars of the shoot before turning on her heel and hopping out of the shot. Izzy places her brush down and runs a hand through her hair, checking her own makeup in the mirror. She hears the scene start again, leaning back and plopping herself in a chair next to another, sighing. “I got these new shoes while I was shopping for furniture. And anyway, they are fucking cute but not made to work in,” she says, looking at the shoes, annoyed. “I haven’t seen you in a while, baby,” she adds, peering at Bowie.

-

“They was doin’ a ‘buy a chair, get a pair free’ discount at the store or somethin’, baby?” Bowie teases Izzy as they lean over to take a glance at the shoes. Amused, they break into a chuckling smile. “I can tell they’re not for workin’, but they’re cute as hell,” They say truthfully as they lean back into their seat with a sigh, folding their arms atop their head. It’s nice to just sit and take a moment in between scenes, and according to today’s schedule, they’re going to have plenty of downtime. Not that they mind. The only thing better than downtime is being able to catch up with a friend without rush.  Bowie glances over at Izzy, brows slightly rising with the natural upward turn of their lips. “Face still as pretty as you remember it?” They ask jokingly, dropping their arms down into their lap. “How you been doin’? What’s new with you?”  

-

“Wait, you know her?” Of course they did, who didn’t Bowie know? As much of a charmer River liked to think he was, he didn’t come close to the astral plane that Bowie was on. Still, he hadn’t thought they’d be so surprised and for a moment, he wondered what he didn’t know about Cat. Obviously, he knew she sold drugs and was a member of the motorcycle people. He didn’t ask many questions beyond that. Opting to get to know her interests and aspirations instead. They’d only been on one official date after all. It seemed a good time to change the subject, though he should have known Bowie wouldn’t stand for it. “Well, well, well fuck me for bein’ interested in your ensemble, bitch.” River teased them with a wink. He sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth trying to decide where to start. The beginning, probably. “We met at the community center, actually. I found her cat when I was wandering around and then we started texting.” River shrugged, a coy smile on his lips. “Then I went and visited that VIP room at Skateland and eventually asked her on a date, and we went, and now we’ve been hanging out. I totally dig her vibe.” Even if it was a little scary sometimes, it was scary in a good way. He looked up at them with a sheepish grin. “Satisfied?”

-

Bowie turns around at their station, arms folding across their chest as they lean back against it and wait for River’s explanation. Nodding, they answer his question. Yes, they know Cat. And they’re happy for him. They really, truly are, and perhaps they could do a better job of displaying that, but right now, they’re simply trying to understand. It seems out of the blue and incredibly close to home. What happened with Cat at Hex was meant to stay at Hex, confined to the back office like some sort of therapist-patient privilege. Now, it feels like the woman has entered into their world, because in truth, she has. River has been a large part of Bowie’s world since the two of them were little kids. And they’ve never had an issue letting people into the world they share with River, not a single person between the several people they’ve dated or taken interest in over the years, but this feels different. For whatever, it just does. “I know, but come on. Talk,” Bowie laughs helplessly, easing the slight nerves starting to creep up on them. They’re going to hear him out, because it’s what he deserves. And so they listen, putting their own experiences with the woman aside. As it turns out, River’s been talking to Cat for months. Even more important, he seems to be really into her. “Well,” Bowie starts, dropping their arms as they shrug. “If you like it, I love it,” They offer a smile as they move towards River and sit with them, taking his hands in theirs. “So you really dig her vibe?” They playfully mock him.

@bowieleblanc​

Ash wasn’t exactly ambitious, but he did like money. Or more to the point, he owed Lottie money and while she wasn’t in a huge hurry to collect, he kind of felt obligated to get as much as possible. He wasn’t a natural hustler, but he was willing to help out if someone asked and they were gonna give him money for it. Drug dealing and DJing were fairly solid gigs, but they were often gigs that didn’t pay nearly enough, though cooking meant Ash got more than the average street dealer, which was nice. Still, needed to make that coin, get that cheddar, grab that lettuce, whatever. 

Bowie took pity on him and had him come into Hex. He had the spiritual wherewithal of a salamander (though maybe salamanders were into crystals?) but he could lift heavy things, organize shelves, sort various herbs and weird items he didn’t question, and take cash. He also made a tidy business selling synthetic weed to the crunchy granola moms who wanted their palms read and also wanted something to help them relax that wouldn’t stink up their SUV. 

“This candle is $30, Bowie! That should literally be a crime! It’s a black candle! Does it have luudes in it or something? Will it do my taxes? Give me head? What magical properties does it have that you get away with charging $30 for it?”

-

Though most days it isn’t necessary, it’s always nice to have another person working at Hex. Usually, it’s just Bowie manning the ship by themself, but October has been a busy time for their little store for obvious reasons. Having another body there means they can comfortably do readings in their office without having to keep an ear out for customers entering into the store, or having to halt a session to take care of business up front. And even when they’re not busy in the back, it’s still nice to have some company during store hours, instead of having to be there by themself all day.

They stand on a step stool as they water the plants hanging in the front window, setting loving intentions for their continued growth. But Bowie’s brows furrow a little at the sound of Ash’s voice, the lucky person who gets to play employee today. “Baby, it’s not just a black candle,” They say as they step down, putting down the watering pot and going over to him. “It’s a spell candle that, one, I made myself, and two, contains rarer crystals that aren’t exactly cheap,” Bowie takes the candle from him and holds it to their chest as they defend their choice to charge $30. “Besides, this is like the most expensive thing in here,” They quickly add, though that excludes the more powerful, authentic things in their shop.