Page 25 of Mr. Frosty Pants
After a few more minutes, Joel chose not to wait. He was going to get reamed out anyway. It might as well be tomorrow.
Placing the McDonald’s bag on his father’s pillow, golden arches up, he beat a retreat to his truck and drove to the store, memories bubbling up like old poison.
“Most rich assholes are queers,” Pop snarled. “Cowardly queers who hid behind books instead of fighting in the war.”
He was deep in a bottle of Christmas rum, so Joel knew better than to contradict him, but he was itching to anyway. He was no fan of Casey’s stuck-up dad, but the man wasn’t cowardly and he wasn’t a queer. He was just born twenty-five years too late to go to Vietnam, for God’s sake.
“You keep hanging out with that sissy boy, and you’ll be licking his balls and begging like a bitch before you know it.”
Joel blinked at his pop, taking in the way his muscles bulged even as he reclined in his La-Z-Boy. Joel bit down on his cheek hard. He wasn’t going to say anything. Nothing at all. He wouldn’t give anything away.
“You think I don’t know? You think I don’t have eyes that see?”
“What do you see, Pop?”
Joel wanted to knock himself unconscious for being stupid enough to ask a question. If he’d been smart, he’d have gone to his room long before now, before his father’s attention even fell on him.
“I’ve seen all kinds of things. Like you and that boy wrestling in the backyard back when you were kids. And I see you now.” He waved his glass Joel’s way. “I see you looking at him all moony-eyed. You a fuckin’ queer? You better tell me so I know what to do with you.”
Joel never wanted to know what that meant. “I’m not a fucking queer, Pop.” He was a queer but not a fucking one. He was a virgin all the way. So it wasn’t even a lie.
“That’s what they all say,” Pop slurred.
In all likelihood, his pop wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. But Joel hoped like hell he did. Whenever Charlie drank enough to get his asshole out and show it around, he felt guilty as sin the next day.
That’s how Joel had convinced Charlie to agree to let the band practice in the garage, and that’s how he wrangled his first bass guitar and amp too. He’d been hoping to pick up a tube preamp so they could make better-sounding demos to put up on YouTube. If his pop remembered these accusations tomorrow, he might be able to buy it.
“Your mom’s brother was a fuckin’ queer,” he whispered, taking a sip of his drink and eyeing Joel angrily. “Died like the rest of ’em in the eighties. Should’ve known better than to knock Jenny up. Should’ve never given in and let her have you. Maybe she’d still be with me.”
Joel didn’t know what the hell that meant since her death had literally nothing to do with him. How was it his fault that his mom died in a freak electrical accident while visiting a friend? He hadn’t even been with her. He’d been at home with a babysitter.
“Go to your room. Come out when you’re not a damn faggot.”
Joel did as he was told, though when his alarm went off the next morning, he ignored the last part of his father’s injunction. He grabbed his iPhone, backpack, and the freshly pinched pack of cigarettes before heading out the door to wait at the bus stop with Casey. Queer as ever.
Gripping the steering wheel, Joel choked down the mix of shame and anger and resentment. He thought of kissing Casey and managed to smile, even if it was more of a smirk. He was still a damn faggot, and Pop could go to hell.
Chapter Nine
“Gloria in excelsisDeo!”
Casey’s mother had a light voice that bounced around the living room as she unboxed all the ornaments for the tree. The Bluetooth speaker sat in the middle of the giant glass coffee table and spewed Christmas carols all around. They’d strung the tree with lights the night before, but everyone had been too worn out—and Casey too distracted—to hang the ornaments.
The tree was the one thing about Christmas that didn’t have to follow his father’s rules. That was because his mother had developed a story about the decorations, one that his father bought into. She told anyone who commented on the wild mish-mash of ornaments and colors that it was tradition in their home to have a tree that reflected the life and love a family shared,notto reflect the décor of the house. So, their tree had ornaments from their travels and his childhood, his grandmother’s old tree, and his mother’s time in college. Handmade items that barely stood the test of time now.
“Hey, Hank. Glad I caught you. I’m thinking of upsizing our boat next summer. If I did, would you want to buy the old one?” His father paced like a tiger by the windows that overlooked the lake. He looked older than the last time Casey had seen him, when he’d popped up to New York for a business meeting over the summer, but no less powerful. Still an inch taller than Casey’s six feet, his blond hair had only just silvered over the last year or two.
Talking on the phone with a country club pal, Jonathan Stevens’s voice boomed like no one else was in the room. “You’ve been running around on that old speedster too long. You really should consider my offer. I’ll make you a good deal.”
“Why do we need a new boat?” Casey asked his mom, poking through the box for his favorite ornament. It was a monkey playing a drum, and he’d picked it out for himself at Hallmark when he was four. “And why isn’t Dad at the office?”
His mother, dressed in black jeggings and a stylish snowflake sweater, sorted through the box of mixed-up ornaments. “Heather needs to take better care when disassembling the tree,” she muttered, smoothing her pixie cut around her ears. “She broke some ornaments last year.” Then she smiled at Casey. “Your dad took today off to spend with you.”
Casey’s stomach dropped, and he glanced toward the clock. He had just enough time to help his mom decorate the tree, swing by Ham & Goody’s for the sandwich and cookies he remembered Joel had once liked, and then get to Vreeland’s in time for lunch. Assuming Joel ate lunch at noon like a normal person, and assuming Joel actually deigned to eat lunch with him. But he hadn’t saidnotto come. And he’d seemed pretty into the kiss while it was going on, so Casey had reason to hope.
His entire body buzzed with excitement, like someone had caffeinated his blood, electrified his skin, and jazzed up his bones. There was no way he was going to cancel on seeing Joel at lunch today to awkwardly hang out with his dad and listen to him pontificate about the petroleum business. Casey chewed on his lower lip.
“What’s wrong?” his mother asked.
