Page 18 of Meeting Mr. Christmas
“What did you just say?” Jed didn’t hear his own voice. He felt it, rumbling deep in his chest, burning his windpipe, tongue and lips. Pushing himself off the stool, he took a step forward. A flicker of something crossed Christopher’s puffy face, his smirk no longer so sure of itself. The guy had let himself go. Where there had been solid muscle in high school, now it had given way to fat. But Christopher held his ground, because he had his little gang of hangers on to impress.
“You heard what I said.” Christopher’s eyes shifted, and sweat beaded above his upper lip. “Dirty little fairy boy. I saw the way he looked at you, and the way you looked right back at him.”
Jed leaped forward, only wanting to punch that grin off Christopher’s sweating, ugly face, only wanting to stop those words coming out of his beer rancid mouth. Christopher stumbled and fell back, as clumsy as he was stupid.
“You talking ‘bout beatings, Christopher? How ‘bout you taking one from me?” Jed pulled his arm back, his fist tight. Christopher was going down, and he was going to go down hard.
A pair of firm hands wrenched Jed’s arm aside and pulled him away.
“Get the fuck off me,” he growled as he struggled to free himself, the raging urge to pummel Christopher’s face to a pulp burning through him like a fever.
“Not unless you want a night in the slammer.”
“I don’t give afuck.” Jed struggled to free himself from Sheriff Morgan.
“Not the best Christmas gift for your mom and dad.” Arlo, his voice as calm and steady as his grip on Jed’s shoulders was sure and solid. “He’s gone. Look.”
In his blind fury, Jed hadn’t seen Christopher being hauled away by security, but the heat of anger cooled just enough to see Christopher being literally thrown out the door and falling face first into the snow before the doors swung closed. His tiny groupof hangers on were nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline rush receded, and Jed slumped back against the stool as the crowd, which had parted when Christopher was dragged through it, merged together again. The Cowboy Combo struck the first chords, and everybody cheered and jostled for their place, getting ready to dance. It was as if nothing had happened. A beer was thrust into his hand.
“A night in jail wouldn’t have been worth it, son. Not over somebody like Bastard. I mean Bastido.”
Jed tried to glare at Sheriff Morgan, but he’d lost even the energy for that.
“Reckon you did Randy a favor, Jed. He can now officially ban him from coming back.” Sheriff Morgan shook his head. “That boy’s heading for a cell, and the way he’s going, it’s gonna be in the state prison.” With a slap on the back, he was gone.
“What are you doing here?” Jed asked as Arlo settled in next to him.
Arlo grimaced. “We’re meeting some friends who are late. I’d suggested Odette’s, that new European style bar, someplace we could make ourselves heard without yelling, but…” He shrugged. “And whereisNoel this evening?”
“We’re not joined at the hip,” Jed barked. Except we are… “Sorry,” he mumbled into his beer when Arlo said nothing, instead only raising a brow. Jed sighed. “He’s on a date.” He put his beer down and pushed it aside. What did Lucian call the beer in Randy’s? Cat’s piss. Yeah, that was it, and now it tasted like it, too. The whole evening was just cat’s piss.
“And you’re not. Which isn’t like you.”And why’s that?Arlo’s penetrating gaze seemed to ask.
“Not really interested in anybody at the moment,” Jed said, answering Arlo’s unanswered question.
Arlo laughed. “Lots of sweet things to choose from, but nothing — or nobody — quite hits the spot. Like that very pretty blonde I saw talking to you.”
Jed huffed. “Not my type. Not by a long shot.”
“So what is?” Arlo tilted his head.
“Short, skinny brunettes.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think. “But not exclusively. I’m a, er, kind of equal opportunity dater.” Why did he need to explain? Why was Arlo looking at him, a half smile lifting his lips? He felt like a lab specimen, with bright lights beaming down on him.
“I can absolutely recommend skinny brunettes.” Arlo nodded to the line dancers just below the stage. Lucian, in a cowboy hat, serious faced and as stiff as a board, dipped from side to side before spinning around and stumbling. “I have no idea where this urge to learn how to line dance has come from.”
“I think he needs to find another hobby.” The dancers turned one way, and Lucian turned another. Jed caught Arlo’s eye, and they both laughed. “I’m out of here.” Jed got up and pulled on his coat.
“Sure. Go see if you can catch that cute little brunette.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I was speaking to your mom only yesterday. We had a video call. My, but she’s looking well. All that sun, I guess. But she worries about yousooomuch, that you’re not eating enough.Mary, I said,I will personally ensure Noel is getting enough good, home cooked food.” Francine plated up a slice of apple pie, before she added some more, and slathered it in whipped cream. “Eat up, Noel dear, because there’s more where that came from.”
Noel stifled his groan as he stared in dismay at the piled up food. Another mouthful, and he’d burst. He’d already got through a whole cow and a field’s worth of potatoes, and all he wanted was to lie down and groan. Very, very loudly.
“Leave the boy alone, Francie,” Hank said, as he attacked his own huge portion of pie.
“Perhaps I can take it home later? I’m too full to enjoy it at the moment, and it’d be a crying shame because your apple pie is an award winner.”
