Page 54 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
Christopher put his unfinished burger and fries back in thebag—he wasn’t hungry anymore anyway—and drove Gran back toward the nursinghome, listening to her sing along to “It Only Hurts for a Little While.”
Chapter Twelve
THECABIN CHRISTOPHER’S FELLOW SINGERShannon and her boyfriend Drew hadrented for their Halloween party was overflowing with drunk people. Christophergrimaced as he squeezed past a couple of guys engaged in a slurred debate aboutfootball. He never felt comfortable getting completely trashed around a lot ofstrangers, and Shannon’s parties were always mostly strangers. Sure, there weresome faces he recognized from SMD, but for the most part the attendees wereDrew’s friends.
As a grounds maintenance worker for the city of Gatlinburg,Drew’s friends—buff, often tan, laid-back young men—were usually one of themain attractions of Shannon’s parties for Christopher. He’d never hooked upwith any of them since they were usually high, and he preferred his one-nightstands mostly sober. Few of them ever seemed to show up at the next partyeither. There was a great deal of turn-over in grounds maintenance and Shannonhad told him it was due to the rampant drug use.
Tonight the music was too loud, the company too crass, andthe beer too cheap to really hit the spot. Christopher stepped out from thehumid, laughter-filled living area crammed full of bodies and onto the backporch. The night air was exactly what he needed to clear his head. The darkforest all around crackled with the noises of the night—small animals andbigger ones making their way through, and the creak of tree limbs in the autumndarkness. He leaned against the porch railing, gazing at the pinpoints of starsabove, and took a swig from his beer.
The last two weeks had been a whirlwind of feeling andemotion. He’d met Jesse for breakfast on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The first weekhad been mainly over-the-desk sex—blow jobs the first day, and fucking thesecond. The screw had been too hot and fast, leaving Christopher’s ass tenderand both of them wishing for more privacy and time. Unfortunately, life seemedto constantly conspire to keep them from getting another all-nighter or even afew hours to go slower.
The second week both meetings had been brief. On Thursday,Jesse had been distracted. He’d mentioned a man’s name to Amanda when she’dcome in, explaining to her why she needed to reschedule a ten a.m. appointment,saying in an undertone that if Ronnie wasn’t going to be there for theprocedure, then he sure as hell was.
The procedure.Christopher had noidea what it meant, but it didn’t sound good. He’d asked if everything was allright, but Jesse had shrugged.
“I’m just glad you’re here this morning.Reminds me I have things to look forward to.”
It’d been an obvious cue to leave behind whatever it wasthat had Jesse’s frown lines in evidence. So Christopher had let it go, happywhen his story of some of the most over-the-top backstage shenanigans betweenthe male ice dancers at SMD made Jesse smile and laugh again.
They’d texted every single day, and if Christopher wasn’tdoing a late show, Jesse called him after the children were in bed. They weren’tintense conversations, usually just small updates about their day and theirplans for the next, but it was a connection Christopher had never experiencedbefore. It felt real, intimate and important, and like it could become a habit.It felt good, even crazy-making at times—like he could possibly burst out ofhis skin from his inability to hold back his hope and joy.
Christopher sighed, listening to the wind in the trees upthe mountain behind Shannon’s house. The sounds of the party seeped out ontothe porch and he considered going back inside, but leaned against the rail andtook deep breaths of the night air.
Things with Jesse were going so well, but he did wonderabout the speed they were moving. In some ways, it seemed fast. Emotionally andphysically, he was more onboard with this man than he’d been with anyone in hislife. But he wasn’t sure if Jesse felt the same and there wasn’t any good wayto ask without making himself more vulnerable than he wanted to be. Jesse hadlost his wife. He had two kids to take care of. A shop to run. A life that wasbigger than Christopher’s could ever be.
Christopher could sit back and wait. He could be happy to bethe man Jesse wanted to see when he had the time. And, truly, Jesse made thetime, didn’t he?
He does more than call for your booty,boy. If that was all he wanted, he wouldn’t call to chat, now would he?
“I know, Gran.”
A strange vibration in his front jean pocket made him jerk,and he laughed at himself.Right.The phone.His stomach did a somersault as he pulled itout and thumbed open the text message.
Brigid’s school poetryjam/slam/whatever yesterday made me wish human beings only spoke in couplets.
Christopher grinned and typed in his response.
And what, good sir, would you say
If you were forced to rhyme this way?
Jesse’s reply came quickly and Christopher smiled to see he’dreplied in couplet too.
I’d say that I hope your party is fun
Despite me not being your plus one
Christopher glanced back through huge windows into thewell-lit house to see one of Drew’s burly friends standing on the ottoman,talking and gesturing wildly with his beer while the women and men around himlaughed and cheered him on.
It’s full of people loud and drunk
And not a single one I’d fuck
Jesse’s reply took a while and Christopher’s palms startedto sweat. Had he said the wrong thing?Back in my day, wedidn’t have these new-fangled devices. We talked face-to-face or not at all.“Thanks, Gran,” Christopher murmured as he quickly typed:
Forgive me for being crude
And my rhymes for being loose
