Page 53 of Mr. Frosty Pants
But a bigger part knew his mother wouldn’t want Pop to suffer. She’d loved him. Hadn’t she? He had to admit he barely remembered life before her death. How did he know what she would want? His father’s version of her wasn’t reliable.
Regardless, Joel was all the family Pop had, and if the doctors were right, it wouldn’t be too many years before he joined Jennifer on the other side. Especially at the rate his father’s heart disease was progressing. He’d feel too guilty if he stopped coming, even though he knew intellectually that his father didn’t deserve the visits.
“Well, I need to get to the store, Pop. Make sure that Angel’s handled everything this morning.”
Eyes sparkling with naughtiness, his father looked up and asked, “That little slut putting out for you?”
Joel cleared his throat. “Angel’s only nineteen, and she’s an employee…”
His father’s dark eyebrow popped up as he sneered. “And if I needed proof you were a pansy, that’d be it. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t let anything stop you from getting some of her pie.”
“I need to go. I’ll come by tomorrow. Do you want something besides an Egg McMuffin? I could swing by Perkins for an omelet or—”
“Just bring the McMuffin. I don’t expect anything else.”
Joel sighed and left without a goodbye. As he climbed into his car, his hands shook and his gut churned with the sick feeling being around his father always left in him. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Just seeing Casey’s name pop up on the screen made his throat convulse, and his eyes fill with tears. He was an idiot to dream that he could rely on the sweet feeling Casey had left him with, but, God, he wanted to. So much. It’d evaporated in the poison of his father’s presence, but he wanted to find Casey and rub against him until he had it back.
Mom’s got plans for me today. But I’ll be at your place by 6. That good for you?
Joel thumbed in a positive response and wiped at his eyes. Ridiculous. He was overtired and overwrought after having Casey in his bed all night. He needed to get it together. Everything would be fine.
Or at least everything would simplybe. He’d deal with whatever descriptor came afterward when it happened. For now, he was going to enjoy this Christmas gift of Casey’s attention. As much as he could.
His phone pinged again.Can’t stop thinking about you.
Casey’s text summoned a frisson of that morning’s magic again, and Joel’s heart hesitantly rose in his chest. He typed in his response:
Ditto.
He knew it wasn’t enough, but he also knew Casey didn’t expect him to suddenly start spouting off about his feelings. Strong as they may be. Wrong as they had always seemed.
Right as they felt now.
“The point is,you have to stop embarrassing yourself by chasing after something you can’t ever have.” Casey’s mother continued her lecture as they pulled into the parking lot of the newly built Astor Country Club and Golf Course.
The older country clubs were definitely considered higher class, and Casey knew that his father had long salivated to belong to one or both, but when his boss threw his weight, reputation, and money behind the construction of Astor, he’d shifted allegiances quickly enough.
Casey was tempted to tell his mother that she didn’t know what she was talking about. He’d already had Joel last night, and he was going to have him for the rest of his life if he had anything to say about it. But Joel wasn’t out to anyone yet, and it wasn’t his place to share that news.
Still, sweetly simmering memories of the night before aside, he wasn’t ready for the inevitable freak-out his social-climbing parents would bring when faced with a reality where Joel Vreeland was their son’s boyfriend. He’d save that for another, less precious day.
“I’ll take your words into consideration.” Casey offered up the bland response Ann had coached him on before leaving New York.
Astor Country Club was decked from foundation to roof in glistening silver and gold decorations. The glare was nearly blinding in the late-morning sun, and Casey bit back a comment about his father’s likely opinion of the garish holiday display. Money lived at Astor, so Jonathan Stevens probably gritted his teeth and bore the lack of classy simplicity.
“Good morning, Mrs. Stevens, may I take your coat?” The young, auburn-haired employee’s nametag declared her to be Annika.
His mother gave Annika a gracious smile as she peeled off her Christian Dior fox fur coat—a gift from his father for her birthday—and handed it over.
“There’s a Winter Wonderland luncheon in the Spring Room, ma’am,” Annika went on. “Or are you here for the Santa Bowl benefitting the food pantry? It’s in the bowling alley in the basement, obviously.”
“Thank you, Annika, but I know where we’re going. Come along, Casey.” His mother’s white-blond hair shimmered with some sort of glittery product beneath the incandescent lights of the grand entry. The broad walls and cupola above were painted in creamy, calming colors that soothed Casey’s eye after the gaudy outdoor decorations.
The indoor decorations were sparse and tasteful, mostly greenery with red, silver, and gold bows, but there was a decorated tree in each room Casey peeked in as his mother led him down a quiet hallway toward the back of the building. He wondered if the trees came from Vreeland’s, and the thought alone brought a smile to his lips again.
He followed his mother down a flight of stairs and smelled the greasy burgers of the golf pro shop’s café before he reached the bottom.
