by B. G. Thomas
“He kept going on and on about how he hated my salt and pepper shakers! And I just stood there, trying to figure out what was happening and what to say. I kept thinking, He’s leaving…. And I got more and more numb because I hadn’t seen it coming for one single second. And what was crazy, the thing I kept going over and over in my mind, was that for at least a year, maybe two, I’d been trying to build up the nerve to ask him to leave.”
Charlie gasped then, that he had said all that out loud, had only ever told Gay and then only once. Because he’d always defended Gerald, even when everyone else—everyone!—had tried to tell him what bad news Kill-Joy was.
“But it was then I saw the movers were taking my dining room table, and I just… I just snapped! I went at those two huge men, and I told them to put that table back!”
He realized he was almost shouting then, but he couldn’t stop. He’d kept it inside too long.
“I went at them and told them to put it back. Put it back. Put the table back!”
And still Tory said nothing. Charlie even looked at Tory again to make sure he was listening. Because what if, like Gerald, he’d gone away mentally, bored to death. He was afraid for a second that was what he would see. But no. Tory was listening. Charlie could see it in those eyes. Those amazing eyes.
Charlie shivered a minute, and then, to his surprise, laughed. “You ever see that picture—it’s on the internet—of the dachshund chasing the rhino? I researched it. I think it’s real and not photoshopped. They can be fierce little creatures.”
Tory nodded. Finally said, with the barest smile, that, “Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“That must have been just how I looked to those men! Because they left. I told Gerald to Get out of my house! and they did. He did.”
Another shiver. He couldn’t help it.
“And I’ve only seen him two times since then, quickly, for business. Makes you aware how big Kansas City really is.”
He looked at Tory again. Saw he wanted to say something, ask something, but didn’t.
Charlie nodded. “Go ahead.” He’s going to ask me “Why did you stay with him?” Like everybody else.
But he didn’t. Tory took a deep breath, “I wish I had been there for you.”
The comment so surprised Charlie that the answer to the unasked question was out of his mouth before he knew what he was going to say. “I let him stay because it meant I wasn’t alone. I had someone. And I could go to parties and dinners and the K.C. Men’s Monthly Dinner Group, and I wasn’t one of those sad guys who was always there alone. I stayed because I didn’t think I was worth any better.”
To his horror, he burst into tears then and, to his surprise, found Tory was holding him. He resisted only a moment, as embarrassed as he was, and then…. God. Tory felt so damned good!
“Oh, sweet, handsome man,” Tory said after a long, long time of not saying anything, just holding him. “You are worth more. So much more. And you’re not alone. You have Gay. You have those men that are coming to your Christmas dinner and—”
“Why do you call me ‘handsome man’?” Charlie blurted.
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t have a clue!”
“Because you are handsome, silly!”
“Me?” The idea shocked Charlie. Him? Handsome? “I’m as plain as plain can be.”
Tory shook his head. I think you’re hella handsome!” And as he looked into Tory’s eyes, he saw that Tory was being sincere. He meant it. Charlie could hardly believe it!
And suddenly, again, words came out of Charlie’s mouth he didn’t even know he was going to say.
“What are you doing for Christmas, Tory?” And then he froze because, God, how desperate he must have sounded? Because Tory had gone all stiff, and…. Shit. What did I do? Why did I say that?
“Swanson turkey dinner, I suppose,” Tory said.
“You could come to my place. Would you like to?”
The look on Tory’s face was nothing less than shock. “I—I don’t know….”
“Please, Tory.” Trying not to sound like he was begging. But he was. Begging. “It’ll make me feel less pathetic. The other people coming are couples. I won’t be a fifth wheel.”
God! Had he said that out loud?
A small smile came to Tory’s face. “You have place settings for six?”
“I do. Eight. Thanks to Gay.”
“She has that way about her.”
Charlie could only smile. He was so nervous he couldn’t speak.
“Well, sure, then,” Tory said. “I wouldn’t want you to be the fifth wheel.”
Charlie was suddenly giddy. “Thank you, Tory.”
“No, Charlie. Thank you.”
Chapter Nineteen
EXCEPT DINNER for eight wasn’t happening.
First Taylor and Myles, after being so grateful and everything, canceled because Myles’s manbo (It turned out that meant some kind of priestess! Oh, the world was getting bigger and stranger all the time!) had out-of-the-blue come up with a way to get them to New Orleans and Myles was over the moon about it. They’d apologized profusely, but it was a huge deal for him. How could he be mad? And here he had actually been looking forward to Myles’s jambalaya—apparently a tradition for his family growing up, even though not Charlie’s own.
But that still left dinner for six!
Except….
“Now Frank and Ray can’t come! I can’t believe they canceled.” Charlie sighed. “There’s no way I can get anyone else in this short a time.”
“What happened?” Tory asked.
“Frank’s mother is in town. Apparently, they just found each other in the past couple of years. He didn’t even know she was alive. I told him to bring her along, but he wants it to be the three of them.”
“Well,” said Tory, “you can’t really blame him.”
“Of course not,” Charlie said, once more impressed with how kind Tory was. Interesting that someone who was thrown out of his home by his parents could be so understanding.
Or maybe that’s why he’s so understanding? Aunt Charlotte asked him.
Of course it was. Goodness!
“But I still can’t help but be disappointed,” Charlie said. “They were bringing the yams, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. That’s a lot. Does that make me sound selfish?”
“Not at all,” Tory replied, once again the epitome of understanding. “You’ve really been looking forward to this. But Charlie, it’ll be okay. It’ll be more intimate now.”
“Intimate?” Charlie asked and blushed.
Tory laughed. “And I can come over early and make the mashed potatoes.”
So we can get… intimate? Charlie wondered. “I was hoping they’d bring a pie, too, because I wasn’t sure the one Harry and Cody were bringing would be right. I mean… pumpkin? How does that say Christmas? I guess it will have to do. And we’ll certainly have enough now.”
“Did you hear me?” Tory said. “It will be okay…. Of course one pie will be enou—wait. Wait! What did you just say?”
Huh? “I said I was hoping the pie Harry and Cody were bringing would—”
“Harry and Cody?”
The force of Tory’s words startled Charlie. “Yes….” Was something wrong?
“Harry Fielding and Cody Warrington?”
“Why… yes.” How did Tory know that?
“You mean to tell me that in everything we’ve talked about the past few weeks, you—we—haven’t mentioned once that we both know Harry and Cody? How is that possible?”
“Well, I’ll be,” Charlie said. “I—I hope you like them.”
“Like them?” Tory asked. “They’re two of my best friends.” And then his mouth fell open. “Oh my God!”
“Right?” Charlie asked.
“No! I just realized something.” The look on Tory’s face!
“Is everything okay?” He looked so… so….
“Charlie! I just realized something! I know where I’ve see
n you before!”
What? “You’ve seen me before?”
“At Cody’s birthday party! I thought you were so damned handsome, but then I saw you were with someone!”
Now Charlie’s was the mouth that was hanging open. “You’re kidding me.”
Tory let out a long high laugh, even better than Gay’s very best. “Yes! And oh. Charlie! That guy you were with?”
“Yes,” Charlie replied. What about him?
“You can do so much better!”
And now it was Charlie’s turn to laugh. And wonder. Was that an offer?
Tory laughed. “Charlie? I don’t think we have a thing to worry about. Our Christmas dinner will be fine!”
Charlie felt his heart swell in hope.
Maybe, just maybe, Christmas would be more than fine.
Maybe it would be perfect.
Chapter Twenty
EXCEPT HARRY and Cody weren’t coming.
Charlie had been fretting all morning because he hadn’t heard from them and had called them several times. Tory had assured him that everything would be okay. He was getting ready to put the potatoes on to boil when Charlie got the call.
“Oh my God!” The color drained out of Charlie’s face and the alarm in his voice made Tory almost drop the pot. “Is he okay?”
“Charlie?” Tory asked.
Charlie held up a hand. “Do… do you want us to come?”
What was going on? “Charlie! What’s wrong?”
Charlie held his hand over his cell. “Harry had an appendectomy! They’re in the hospital.”
“What?” Holy crap. Where was his coat? “We should go!”
Charlie shook his head. “Cody says that Harry’s in recovery now and… wait a second.” He went back to the phone. “Yes, Cody?” Harry held up his hand again. Nodded. “If you’re sure.”
Appendectomy? “Charlie?” Cody must be sick over what was going on and—
“Cody says he’s exhausted,” Charlie said, hanging up. “They’ve been there all night.”
“All night! Why didn’t they call—”
“He says some thoughtful nurse gave him a chair and he’s going to try and get a little sleep. He’ll call us later.”
“Geez,” Tory said and slumped back against the counter.
“I know,” Charlie replied and came to him. Laid hands on his chest. It was so intimate, so unlike Charlie, that for a moment Tory was startled silent.
Was… was Charlie going to kiss him?
But then the moment was over, and Charlie went back to the oven, opened it, looked in. Shook his head. “The little red thing still hasn’t popped up!” He closed the door and stood.
He turned around. And did something else uncharacteristic. He motioned Tory over. Tory went.
And Charlie pulled Tory into his arms. Hugged him tight.
Well, I’ll be, Tory thought. A first. Charlie initiated the hug.
It felt good.
Charlie rocked him. Tory let him. And when he finally pulled back and looked at Charlie, not quite letting their eyes lock… Charlie did it. He kissed him.
It wasn’t a long kiss. It was simple and quick and light. But, God! Charlie kissed him!
“It’ll be okay.” This time it was Charlie who did the assurances. So sweet.
“But Harry…!” All he could think of was that the two of them were standing here with a big Christmas dinner almost ready, and Harry was in the hospital. And Cody was alone!
“Harry will be okay. And if you know Cody, you know if he says he’s okay, he means it.”
Tory nodded.
“Now if it was Cody in recovery, Harry would need us. He’d be flipping out.”
Tory took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right.”
Charlie smiled. “Okay?”
Tory returned it. Felt the panic slip away. “I will be if you kiss me again.”
Charlie did. He touched his face, took his cheek in his hand, and kissed him.
This time the kiss wasn’t nearly as light.
When they pulled back, looked into each other’s eyes, Charlie was smiling so big!
“What?” Tory asked. He couldn’t help himself.
“Your beard,” Charlie said.
“My beard?”
“It’s so soft. I’ve been wondering forever. And it’s soft. Not scratchy.”
Tory laughed.
And Charlie kissed him again.
Chapter Twenty-One
CHARLIE LIT candles even though it would be hours before it got dark. That didn’t mean it wasn’t pretty. Even without his prized multiple place settings of holly dishes. In fact, in a burst of unexpected inspiration, he actually grabbed the box Gay had given him out of the closet and quickly packed up two of the settings to add to the others he’d already—sadly—put away. The ones he had so hoped would be used today.
And yet somehow it wasn’t disappointment he was feeling. It was something else entirely.
It was hope.
You know what you could do? his aunt piped in then. She told him and Charlie loved the idea.
“Can you help me with something?” he asked Tory. The turkey was out of the oven. The “little red thing”—the pop-up timer—had finally done its job.
“Sure,” Tory said.
Then Charlie whipped off the last two settings and the placemats and table runner and candles and gravy boat and napkin rings (they had turned out beautifully) and salt and pepper shakers (that had started everything) and tablecloth—
“Charlie! What are you doing?”
What he wanted was help with removing the leaf that lengthened the table, and was aware at that moment, while they did it, that it really was his idea of course, not this Aunt Charlotte’s. The voice of his aunt had always been him, hadn’t it? Or the part of her that lived in him.
Would always live in him.
And when everything was back on the table, what Charlie had hoped would be eight place settings, and then six, and then four, was now two, and that turned out to be not so bad after all. In fact, it was much more… intimate.
Beautiful, she said. Would have said.
Of course, there was way too much food, even without yams or cranberry sauce Frank and Ray were supposed to bring, since on top of the mashed potatoes, Tory had whipped up a green bean casserole on the fly. They did have a pie, though. Tory had picked it up that morning on the way over. And it wasn’t a pumpkin pie either. But Charlie had an idea what he could do with all the extra food and told Tory.
Tory loved the idea.
So then they sat and they ate and found themselves not really saying much at all. Not with words. Just their eyes. And every time they looked at each other, the gaze grew longer and longer.
Until “it” happened again.
Their eyes locked. Charlie found himself falling into the kaleidoscope beauty of those hazel eyes. Felt once more almost high, like the seat had vanished beneath him, like he was floating, like the world had gone away. And that strange desire to both laugh and cry. The sense of being cold and hot. His blood pounded in his ears. Sweat broke out again.
Then abruptly it was over. Because Tory had stood up. Had stood up and come to his side of the table. Bent down on one knee.
“Oh, my sweet, handsome man.”
This time Charlie didn’t look over his shoulder. Tory was talking to him!
And then Tory kissed Charlie in a way he had never been kissed before. It was Buster and far, far more. It was the kiss he’d been waiting for since that day in the bathroom at prom. The kissing he’d been waiting for his entire life.
It made their special way of falling into each other’s eyes seem like nothing in comparison.
Well, almost nothing.
What came next was even better.
Chapter Twenty-Two
CHARLIE AND Tory made their way upstairs to the bedroom. Holding hands. Stopping here and there to kiss. Even once while halfway up the stairs.
The room was dark, but not
too dark.
Both of them wanted to see.
And as their clothes fell to the floor, Charlie was enthralled. Tory’s body was so lithe, almost ethereal, like an elf. His nipples were tiny and stood out like pebbles, and Charlie could not help but kiss them, draw them into his mouth.
And Tory saw that Charlie didn’t think he was too skinny. Wasn’t worried about rib bones. The expression on his face brought Tory to tears. Because he could see what could almost be reverence in Charlie’s eyes, not the lust of a man in a bar who kinked after skinny boys. Tory could see that.
Oh, Charlie’s body was perfect. As if it were made for him. Padded, a T of hair across the middle of his chest, joining his large dark nipples and traveling down his stomach. He, too, kissed and sucked at Charlie’s nipples and delighted in his cries of pleasure.
When their pants were gone, their shafts rose up to meet each other, Charlie’s slightly thicker, Tory’s slightly longer, and neither could have been more pleased.
After much more kissing, they found themselves flipped around and took each other in their mouths—Tory’s almost-beard felt so good on Charlie’s thigh—and loved each other with all the skill they had.
Neither of them lasted long.
They napped after that. And then Tory insisted Charlie take him, make him his own, and to his delight, Charlie wanted nothing more.
The loving was very good.
Chapter Twenty-Three
IT WAS winter, of course, which meant it got dark much earlier. And, a Christmas miracle, it had started to snow outside.
Luckily not before they went to the hospital, laden with Christmas dinner for their friends. Harry for once wasn’t very hungry, which wasn’t a surprise really. But bear that he was, he did manage to eat a piece of pie. They were also able to make sure Cody got home safely with a promise to join him at the hospital the next day.