Page 77 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“I guess I better be,” Joel said, smiling strangely as Tawnie Dobbins, the company’s CFO, approached with her hand outstretched and obviously looking for an introduction. “Hi, I’m Joel Vreeland.” And then, before Casey could say a word, he added, “Casey’s boyfriend.”
Joy was a brilliant emotion, bright and almost blinding. Casey put his arm around Joel to steady himself as he almost burst with it.
Joel sat ina ridiculously comfortable chair in the corner of Casey’s parents’ living room, sipping an amazing glass of wine and eating from a small plate of cheese Casey had brought to him. To his right was Walker Ronson, chatting endlessly to another young man about golf and the price of cable television ad spots in the age of streaming media. It wasn’t boring so much as soothing, a running pitter-patter of pleasant noise that lacked any sharp edges or wicked points.
Unlike some of the other conversations he’d overheard that night. Especially with Casey’s mother.
“Joel is Casey’s special friend,” he’d heard Mrs. Stevens whispering pointedly to one of her friends. “A real step down from Theo, I know, but we assume he’s a rebound relationship.”
Her friend had looked Joel up and down and murmured, “Lord knows we’ve all had one of those.”
He’d almost said, “I can hear you, you realize,” but he didn’t want to upset Casey, and what had he expected? A “welcome to the family” hug? Of course not. The shock and outrage had been half of why he’d come. Though the idea of it had been a lot more fun that the reality. It turned out that maybe he really did want to be loved and accepted by the people close to Casey. Who’d have thunk it?
How annoying.
He sipped the wine again and thought back to the moment he’d seen the cover Casey had mocked up for his werewolf book. He still worried about not paying Casey for the work, but he couldn’t afford it, and something had ignited in him when he saw that cover. It’d been so perfect for the story—so professional and real. For the first time since he’d hit publish on his first book, he truly felt like an author and not just an imposter pretending to be a writer.
How was it possible that Casey could come back into his life and turn it around after just a few days? But he had, and every moment things kept getting better. It was more than Joel ever thought he’d have and more than he deserved. It was worth putting up with all the catty comments from Casey’s mother and more.
As his eyes swept over the room again, looking for Casey, he caught the eye of Casey’s aunt instead. He’d always liked Courtney when he was younger. She’d been nice to him back then. He straightened up and smiled as she headed in his direction. He hoped she’d be nice to him now.
“You’ve got our little Casey swoony as a lovesick schoolboy,” Courtney said, dropping into the chair next to him, a pink, foamy cocktail in hand. Her red dress poofed around her thighs, and she smoothed it down as she grinned at him from between glossy, ruby lips. “Are you equally smitten?”
“He’s cool. I like him,” Joel said, shrugging. “I could do worse.”
Courtney laughed, tossing her head back as she did. “So it’s love then.”
Joel smiled into his wine. It’d been the weirdest few days of his life. He didn’t know what to say. “A Christmas miracle is more like it.”
And just like a Christmas miracle, unlikely to outlive the holidays. But it was nice to believe. To let them both believe for a little while. And, maybe if they were lucky…
Not that Joel had ever been lucky a day in his life.
Sitting close to the gas fireplace and thinking of the chances that he’d be fortunate enough to make this work with Casey, sweat slipped down the side of his face.
“So, you run your old man’s store now?” Courtney asked.
“I do.”
“It’s probably a good investement, too,” Courtney said. “In Atlanta, some of the older mom-and-pop stores are really making a comeback. My friend Mark’s parents just sold their home-and-garden place to a young hipster couple hoping to keep it going. They’ve retired on the profit they made.”
“Oh yeah?” Joel tilted his head, an inkling of an idea scratching at his mind. “How long had they been in business?”
“It’s warm in here,” Courtney said, fanning herself with one hand as she took another sip of her drink. “Do you want to step outside for some fresh air, and we can keep talking?”
“Sure.” He looked around for Casey but didn’t see him. “He said he was going to the bathroom. But that was a while ago.”
“He probably got waylaid by a mouthy guest on his way back. He’ll find you. Don’t worry.” Courtney led the way toward the French doors that opened to the back porch. The reflection in the windows along the back of the house showed the party was winding down, as guests had dropped off through the night.
“Oh, let me grab my coat,” Courtney said as she pulled open the door. “I’ll meet you out there.”
Joel stepped onto the porch and took a slow, deep breath. The night air cleaved through the stuffy heat of his lungs, and he sighed, wishing desperately for a cigarette.
“He lives in a trailer, Casey. A filthy, rundown trailer.”
“It’s not filthy, Dad. For God’s sake, you don’t even know him.”
Joel’s heart stopped. Casey and Mr. Stevens’s voices rose from the patio beneath the porch.
