Page 37 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“Fine, jerk.” Joel’s pulse went wild. “You can kiss me.”
Casey’s eyes drifted down to Joel’s mouth, and he licked his lips. “Later. When I can do it right.”
Then he grabbed Joel’s elbow and steered him toward the welcoming lights of Tupelo Honey.
Joel did getdrunk, and Casey loved drunk Joel so much he thought his heart was going to escape from his chest and go running screaming with joy down the middle of Gay Street. Why had they never experimented with alcohol when they were kids? How had he not known that Joel was adorable like this?
“Yeah, so I said to Angel—my employee—I said to her, that’s—well, that’s the thing, right? I said you have to be ready to willy, I mean, really…” Joel lifted up the second empty rosemary lemon drop glass and stared at it. “Whoa. Talking is hard. What did they put in this? Straight alcohol?”
Casey held back on ribbing Joel about his opinion on girly drinks now. “Dinner should be here soon, and that’ll help sober you up.”
“Good thing you’re driving,” Joel muttered.
They were settled in a small booth in the middle of the crowded restaurant. Jazz renditions of Christmas songs played discreetly, the brassy tone of saxophone and trumpets soaring overhead, backed by a cheery snare drum.
“This is a good one,” Joel said, cocking his head. “My old man used to play this at Christmas back when my mom was alive.” He hummed a few bars of “The Christmas Song.” “Dexter Gordon Quartet. He’d twirl her around. Call her his doll. It’s one of my few memories of her.”
Casey said nothing. In high school, Joel had almost never talked about his mother and hardly ever with the soft smile he was wearing now. Joel closed his eyes, and the song slipped around them, muffled by the sounds of conversations.
“This is nice,” Joel said, opening his eyes and smiling crookedly. Casey’s heart skittered and leapt to see that smile again. “Even if I am drunk on girly drinks.”
Casey reached out to take Joel’s hand, but just then the waitress delivered their plates.
After she confirmed they were satisfied with everything and walked away, Joel leaned over the table and whispered, “This is the Smoky Mountain Pork Infused Roll?” His outraged words were delicious with drunken sibilance. “What kind of place asks this kind of money for what amounts to a barbecue sandwich?”
“But wait until you taste it. It’ll be so good.”
“Hmmph.” Joel frowned but took hold of the sandwich, trying to capture the messy insides before they fell out on his plate, and took a bite. “Oh. Well. How about that,” he said softly, closing his eyes and moaning the way he had when Casey had brought the sweet potato casserole over all those years ago.
Casey swallowed, blood rushing south and fattening his cock against the inside of his pant leg. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” Joel whimpered, licking his lips as his eyelashes fluttered. “Good God.”
Casey bit into his lower lip, eyes trained on Joel, dying for him to take another bite.
Joel did, and the symphony of his pleasure was just as good the second time.
“So how is everything?” the waitress asked, swinging by to top off their water and check in. Her black hair was piled on her head in a topknot, and her blue eyes sparkled cheerfully.
“Great,” Casey answered, his voice breathy even to his own ears. He hoped she didn’t look in his lap because the way the front of his pants were distorted by his hard-on wasn’t entirely hidden by his napkin. “Perfect.”
“You didn’t taste yours,” Joel pointed out after she walked away again.
Casey glanced down at his plate of fried green tomatoes and Atlantic salmon and couldn’t remember why he’d even ordered it. He could easily feast off the sounds Joel made when eating and be completely satisfied. “Right. I’m sure it’s great, though.”
“Come here a lot then?”
“No, not since high school. This actually is my first time back in Knoxville since I left.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Casey shrugged. “Being around my parents confuses things for me. I think more clearly when I’m away from them. But New York is lonely, so when they asked me to come down for the holidays this year, I caved.” He sighed. “I’m not comfortable though. Nothing feels right at their house. In some ways, I just want to get back to my apartment in New York, but that doesn’t feel like home either.”
Joel appeared to consider what Casey had said for a long time. “I get what you’re saying. I like the property my place is on, but living in a trailer was never my dream.” He shrugged, wiping his mouth with a napkin and then taking another bite. After he’d chewed and swallowed, he said, “It’s better than an apartment, though. I have my own space. Bruno’s got land to run on. No rules or regulations about what I can and can’t do and, best of all, no upstairs neighbors.” Joel smiled. “Becca wants to murder the people who live over her. She swears they have family bowling tournaments on their wooden floors.”
“Does Becca still drum?”
“Sometimes. She plays with a butch dyke group now and again, the token femme, I guess.” Joel’s eyes softened, and he seemed to cast back to an earlier time. “Did you know my dad thought Becca was my girlfriend? That was one of the reasons he let us have the garage for the band. That and… Well, there were a few other reasons too.”
