Page 22 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
“Oh no. We’ll just go out the front.”
“What if someone sees us?”
“That’s okay.” Christopher unlocked the door and held itopen, waving at several other employees who were walking past.
“Why did we come in that way, then?” Jesse watchedChristopher lock the place back up.
Christopher grinned cheekily. “I was trying to impress you.Did it work?”
“Hell yeah.” Jesse found himself laughing as he followedChristopher under the sparkling lights of Smoky Mountain Dreams, early-fallenleaves crunching underfoot.
At the staff parking lot, Christopher offered to driveJesse to his car, hoping he’d be able to operate a motor vehicle safely givenhe was still shaky from great sex. Being with Jesse had been better than hecould have imagined. “Employee parking isn’t far, and performers get theclosest spots.”
“Why’s that?”
“In case we’re running late we won’t have so far to run toget to the stage.”
“Smart.”
“Necessary. For some of us more than others.”
“You run late a lot?”
“Never. I like my job, but more importantly, my voice is adime a dozen. I’m early. Always. I don’t want to give them any reason to lookfor a replacement.”
“You undersell yourself. Again.”
“So you keep telling me.” Christopher motioned toward hisYaris, suddenly very conscious of his compact car. He bet Jesse drove somethingnice. He’d seen a BMW and a Mercedes at his shop before. “This is me.”
Jesse didn’t say anything at all, and Christopher waspleased that he’d had it professionally cleaned a week prior in preparation tovisit Gran. He always liked to take her out for a nice lunch when he visited,and she complained if there were too many fast food bags on the floorboard.
“You can put the seat back,” Christopher said, glancing asJesse folded up in the seat, his long legs nearly to his chin. “Go on back asfar as you need.”
Jesse adjusted himself until he fit more easily and buckledup while Christopher got the heater going, their breath puffing in the spacebetween them.
“Which lot?”
“F.”
Christopher pulled out of his space and drove slowly towardthe F lot, caught behind other cars exiting the park and watching out forteenagers on the side of lots A through E, lingering, as always, a few hoursafter the park itself closed.
“Tonight was nice,” Jesse said, talking over the blast fromthe heating vents. “Thanks for dinner. And dessert.”
“It was my pleasure.”Was it ever.
Jesse shifted in his seat. “I’d like to call you. See youagain.”
“Well, you’ll be seeing me again about the locket.”
“I’d like to see you and for it to have nothing to do withthe locket.”
Christopher’s stomach flipped, but he cleared his throat andsaid evenly, “That’d be cool. Sure.”
Jesse pointed. “That’s me. The Nissan Quest.”
It was a family car if Christopher had ever seen one. Aminivanto be exact. He told himself not to jump toconclusions. “Who drives the Mercedes? Or the Beemer?”
Jesse’s eyebrows lifted. “My sister’s the BMW fan. I drive aMercedes sometimes.”
