Five be alive
Title: So You Think You Can Tell (Pt. 5)
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past), some surprise het I hadn't planned but it happened anyway, lol...
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Confusion and regrets abound, Zeke shuts shit down.
The last two slices of veggie-loaded pizza was put in the fridge, along with the bottle of soda someone had left out on the kitchen counter. If Zeke got hungry enough, maybe he’d give the odd meal a try. Maybe. He shut the fridge and turned to the sink, where a few piles of dishes sat waiting to be cleaned. While he usually tried to stay ahead-of-the-game with household chores… “Fuck it,” he said aloud, choosing instead to head back into the living room. He dropped himself on the couch in a heap; his muscles were starting to ache from the day’s outdoor activities, and there was still a chill in his bones that had refused the fireplace’s heat. He tugged at the heavy wool quilt on the back of the couch and wrapped it haphazardly over himself as he lit up, grabbed the remote and started his lazy, wind-down night. But while he felt his body sink into the couch and relax, his brain whirred and spun with deep, heavy thoughts.
Jeremy and Casey had been the first of the group to leave, Delilah deciding to join them. That’d been due to their wanting to get their film to Casey’s favorite photo shop for developing. Zeke had watched the odd exchange between he and his boyfriend, the latter insisting he not only take Casey’s rolls out to his favorite in Ravenna-insisting it was so much better, used ‘only the best’-but pay for the lot. It brought Zeke back to those days he’d drive out to whatever remote area or a national park, all to follow Casey around in the search for picture-prospects that’d assure Casey a spot in the art hall’s display cases. There’d been one trip that had sucked up four whole rolls of film, most of the shots taken up by the doe and her fawn they’d come across. Zeke’s lack of interest in photography hadn’t mattered; the fact that they’d gotten so close to them, enough for Casey’s zooming in make it look like they’d sat right next to them, had been a truly magical, enchanting experience. Whether it’d been the fact that Hollow Point National Park was a wildlife preserve which made the deer less shy, no fear of hunters involved, Zeke had definitely felt the closest to nature that day than any other.
He’d been excited and eager for Casey to develop the film, wanting to have copies of the shots Casey took in backing up so Zeke was featured with the mom and baby mere yards ahead of him. “Let’s bring ‘em to the Walgreens there, the one-hour photo thing,” he’d said.
Casey had chuckled. “No, no-o-o, I’m a ‘shop local’ guy,” he’d said. He gave the barebones of how much better it was to go to ‘Shot-Spot’ in downtown Herrington, which was run by an elderly and skilled husband and wife. According to Casey, they’d put their shop up before Herrington was Herrington, and gave him great discounts on developing, tools and other services for his patronage. “It takes at least a full day to get ‘em back… and anyway, the bank’s closed so I’ll have to rape my savings tomorrow to get the funds.”
It only came natural to Zeke, offering up the shiny, big nickel it’d cost to have them in-hand the next day. But when it came to this hobby specifically, Casey didn’t just want to cover any and all expenses toward it; he needed to. It was his and his alone, not wanting any piece to be attached to anyone else. Every allowance, money gift on holidays and birthdays and lawn-mowing job would get put into his savings, the vast percentage of it going toward Casey’s most loved, most vibrant skill-set. He’d barely spoken the words, “No offense, it’s not that I don’t wanna share it, but-“ before Zeke told him that he got it. That he respected the philosophy, to the point where it was admirable.
“But I AM buying dinner,” he’d said, which Casey was willing to take, and enjoy.
So when Jeremy had all but started begging Casey to “let me do it, you know it’s not an issue for me!” Zeke had been tempted to give him a piece of his mind. There was a clear difference between how Casey approached his hobby and the guy who didn’t GET that approach. Casey’s love of the local photo geeks and their shop, along with the character he put into his trade was unrecognizable to the young man who could buy-out ‘Shot-Spot’, along with HIS local favorite without batting an eye.
He had relented, but not without pointing out that he was in a better position to swallow the costs. That was how he was, and it annoyed Zeke to no end; everything past his wallet went blurry, gold and platinum Visas blocking his view of who Casey, and nearly everyone around him, was, how they all lived. It didn’t matter if Zeke’s coffers were bursting at the seams with cash, himself. It just sat there, dipped into occasionally when something expensive caught his fancy. Otherwise, money felt cold and meaningless, considering its source. If he’d been given the choice between having loving, attentive parents and the checks they sent him from whatever foreign country they’d touched-down on that day, he’d take the former. He didn’t know Jeremy’s entire family history, if his parents were always gone working to keep up their lush lifestyle. Zeke knew there were servants, so there’d probably been a few nannies in the guy’s childhood. Whatever stories behind Jeremy’s habit of bragging and-or touting his wealth, he needed to wake the fuck up and realize how many times he’d step in it in one, single solitary social interaction.
Therein lay the problem Zeke was encountering; ‘stepping in it’ was different than a deliberate, cruel attempt to outright poor-shame anyone. No matter how much Zeke wanted to write him off as a jerk, unworthy of Casey’s affection, he kept hitting the wall. He’d seen enough to know these were accidents, Jeremy having a block of some kind. Zeke wondered what Jeremy would say or do if he, or anyone else, finally dared telling him what kind of faux pas he’d committed throughout a visit. It was obvious no one had, because Zeke figured his jaw would drop, his face would go red and he’d start apologizing, embarrassed at his making those mistakes. Because there were redeemable things about the guy, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He hadn’t bought that pizza with any “because I can, being so wealthy!” attached to the offer. It’d been a warm and welcome gesture, a ‘thanks for letting me join you guys!’ Though half of the offering was a disaster, he’d had the sense to make the other half simpler. Stan had probably never seen an eggplant before in his life, never mind eaten any.
The worst of it all couldn’t be denied; Zeke had caught the way Casey had looked at Jeremy throughout the day, the familiar pitch of his laughs, his voice when he’d talk to him directly. It was familiar for a reason. There was the Casey that was a devoted son, the Casey that was a trusted friend, and the Casey who was falling in love. However soft and tentative he was taking things with Jeremy, he felt comfortable in taking the new relationship’s path with him. Jeremy, too, was comfortable with Casey, showing it even more than Casey was. There was a confidence to the guy, which felt honest and natural, no posturing or grandstanding involved. In the present, Zeke looked to the coffee table at his phone.
Mr. Connor was probably aching for a ‘report’ on their day out. Zeke had no idea on what that reporting would involve. He couldn’t tell the man that he was full-steam-ahead on their shared want to get Jeremy out of the way, but he didn’t want to bail on the idea, either. Though whether it was from seeing something nasty enough in Jeremy or his wanting to see that, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t go balls-out without being sure. He picked up the phone but kept staring at it, all while the Hallmark Channel played an episode of ‘I Love Lucy’ in the background…
He jumped in his seat when the phone started ringing. ‘Oh god, it’s him…’ he worried, especially with it being a call, rather than text. But in looking at the caller ID, he frowned at the sight of Delilah’s number sitting there on the screen. He pressed ‘Take Call’ and said, “Hello?”
“Hey… you alone?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Cool, just wanted to check. I’m gonna head back for a chat. In private.”
Zeke blinked furiously, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Okay… everything a’right?”
“Oh yeah, just-like you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
“Be there in five.”
Zeke didn’t get the chance to reply. The girl hung up, leaving him staring at the glowing screen saying ‘Call duration: 00:36. You have 08h02m left on your Sprint call plan’.
He’d just pressed ‘on’ on his coffeemaker a few minutes later when the doorbell rang. He peeked down the hall, finding Delilah stepping past the opened door. “Hey,” he called.
“Hey back,” she said. She stripped her coat off and stomped her classy-looking boots on the doormat to remove the snow. “Picked something up at T.J. Maxx for you, by the way.”
Zeke frowned as she brought in a bag from the shop. She dug past what looked to be a new dress and various loose cosmetics a moment, then produced a bottle. “Booze?” he said.
“Um, no? I don’t recall ever having a deal go down between us at your trunk for fake ID purchasing,” she said. “It’s Torani.”
“Tor-what?” Zeke said as he took it.
“Ugh, Christ, Zeke…”
“Oh. Hey, cool,” he said, now recognizing her gift as a flavor syrup, ‘Irish Cream’ to be specific; perfect for throwing into a hot drink. “Kinda like what that coffee shop on Elm has, right.”
“Your coffee’s awesome, but I like my flavorings,” Delilah said, now smiling and tapping the bottle. “This one’s my fave. As long as you get in the habit of keeping it stocked here, I’ll come by to kick your ass in ‘Mario Kart’ more often.”
Zeke chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That alone means I should dump the bottle in the sink, keep you out,” he playfully teased on his way back to the coffee maker. As she chuckled in reply and waited for the mugs Zeke was filling and preparing, he said, “Think it’ll go good with the actual Bailey’s I got in the fridge?”
“Quite,” Delilah replied with an eagerness.
Light on the coffee, cream and sugar it was, allowing both servings to take a heavy portion of both the syrup and a filled-to-the-brim shot of the delicious liqueur. Making things fun and casual would let their conversation come out smoothly enough. He handed Delilah her drink then clicked his against it. “What’s the word, thunderbird… what’s the price-“
“Forty-twice,” Delilah finished the toast, winked then sipped. Zeke stared at her, an eyebrow cocked.
“How’d you know that antique?”
“My grandpa had a bar in his basement, right next to the billiards table. Lotta memories,” Delilah said, adding, “Shit’s fantastic,” about her drink.
“Ah. My uncle owns ‘Tacky’s’, grew up there too-“
“So. Jeremy.”
The sudden switch-of-subjects made Zeke feel dumb a moment, staring back at her. He recovered with a scoff, heading over to the kitchen table. Delilah followed, taking the seat across from him as he lit up and said, “’Figured that was it.”
“Mmhmm. So… you handled it pretty well.”
Could he tell her? It was too early to tell. Propping his head up on his hand, Zeke shrugged. “He’s… okay, I guess,” he replied.
“Yeah. Have to admit, he’d got the type of personality I click with like-“ She snapped her fingers, her smile growing as she went on, “If Casey wasn’t my gay best friend, he’d probably get to that level with me in the future.”
“Congrats. And… wait, what’s that make me?”
“Make you what?”
Zeke scoffed and gave her a look that said, ‘the fuck, dude?’ “Where am I on your ‘gay friend’ graph? Somewhere in the tenth-percentile, lower than that?”
“You’re my bi-bestie,” she replied. “You ARE bi, right?”
“Not… really?”
“Ugh, fine, fine…” The girl made a lone chuckle and waved her hand in a listless motion. “Jeremy would have to fight for the top-spot past Casey AND you. Does that make you feel better?”
Zeke nodded curtly, smiled and took a heavy gulp from his mug. He returned to his slouch, shrugging again. “I can’t say he’d be MY best friend, any time soon. He’s not evil incarnate, but… annoys the shit outta me, all the same.”
“I noticed,” Delilah replied, leaning forward on her hand, perfectly-polished bright red nails drumming against her cheek. “Hit me if you want, but-you really are the poster-boy for the down-home, corn-fed Midwesterner type.”
“Hmph, me? Be serious…”
“I am being serious. It makes you Jer’s polar opposite,” she said. “He’s definitely not humble, and sweet god, he talks more than I do…”
“No shit,” Zeke remarked.
“But that’s probably why he’s a new buddy of mine. I went with them to the photo shop of Casey’s, there, then we dropped by Dunks. Me and him fought over who was gonna pay for the round of coffees and giant honking box of Munchkins we were gonna share, but I won when the serving-boy declared that I’d ‘called it’ first.”
“Again, ‘fuck your diet’, huh?”
“Altogether, yeah. It just translates to an extra fifteen on my elliptical. Worth it.”
Zeke smirked. “So. Now that you’re wedging your way into Jeremy’s ‘inner sanctum’ of best-friend status, should I expect to see you in their wedding party?”
The oddest, most unreadable expression formed on Delilah’s face. “Uh… no? Even if I was asked, I’d say no out of protest.”
“Huh?” Zeke uttered. He sat up straighter and took a slow sip, staring at her over the rim. “Protest? Protesting what?”
“Nothing leaves this kitchen, right?” she asked. As he shrugged and made a lone nod, she said, “I’ve known Casey since Kindergarten. That means that when I meet his ‘boy of choice’, it only takes me about a minute to read how right or wrong the guy is for him. After saying three words to the guy, all I could think was, ‘how the fuck are you and Casey together?’”
This was the last thing Zeke expected; after seeing how chummy they’d gotten in such a short amount of time, Zeke had planned on keeping his ‘fuck no’ vote he’d cast for Jeremy and Casey’s attachment to a dull roar. But now, he felt a few caution signs getting taken down. “’K, was gonna keep my mouth shut but-yeah. Count me in on that opinion.”
“I figured,” Delilah replied. She took a big sip then stood. “Going for a second round.”
Zeke nodded and joined her back at the coffeemaker, this time with Delilah taking a turn at mug-prepping. He let her, all to keep talking, “Kinda weird, though, since you’ve got such glowing things to say about ‘im.”
“Oh, he’s awesome. Love him already. But that doesn’t mean I think he and Casey are star-crossed lovers,” she said. Zeke’s mug was served up first and he took it, letting her go on as she got her own drink together. “Like you, Casey’s the humble type. He thrives in frugality, being-detailed, in a way that doesn’t come through book-learning or taking etiquette courses.”
“Oh god, he told you about that, too, huh? He wouldn’t put the brakes on his blathering on his ‘Denmark boarding school’ experience at Casey’s a couple days ago,” Zeke said.
“Is that when you first met him, or have you known him longer?”
“Oh, no… first time meeting the guy was over dinner, on Sunday night. At Casey’s.”
Delilah turned away from the counter slowly, stirring her drink while giving Zeke a curious gaze. “You went over-for dinner?”
Ut oh. Zeke turned away, trying to shrug it off. “No, was just-dropping off a book Casey had left at my place, kept… forgetting to return it. His mom went on the Zeke-love attack and pretty much shoved me at the dinner table to stay.”
“Ah.” Delilah, nodding slowly, now wore a teasing, knowing grin. “Wonder why…”
“I detect sarcasm?”
“Something you’re good at. Yeah,” she said. “Which means that… I find it obvious that Momma Connor doesn’t really want Jeremy as Casey’s ‘one and only’ as well.”
Zeke sighed and stared at the opposite wall. “K, so… I tell you this, and you don’t spread it around, dig?”
“Tell me… what? And uh, no, I don’t gossip.”
“Hah, sure you don’t…”
Delilah gave him a firm look, even put her hand on her hip with defiance. “I don’t. If you knew how many secrets I’ve held onto and never breathed out to any one curious soul who comes snooping, you’d faint with shock,” she said.
That said, Zeke had to believe her. She may have been not just the ‘Queen of the Herrington High Halls’, but the school paper’s head honcho-but after a quick intake over what dramas stemmed from who that had gone down over his high school career, he could attach none back to Delilah. It made him feel safe enough to head to the living room, shut off the TV and return to his cozy spot on the couch. When Delilah sat with him, he tossed her the edge of his quilt, making her smile.
“It IS a little drafty in here.”
“Want me to kick the heat up a notch?”
“Sure-telling me whatever secrets you’ve got should suffice.”
He sniffed a chuckle through his nose, put the mug up to his lips for a sip then kept it close by his face as he said, “It ain’t just Momma Connor wanting me back. Her ‘Papa Bear’ was desperate enough to hunt me down at my uncle’s bar and beg for me to join him on his mission.”
“Mission… to…?”
“Mission ‘Kick Jeremy to the Curb’,” he admitted. He tried gauging her reaction, that being widening eyes and parting lips. “I know, right?”
“Oh god,” she said. After a moment spent spluttering and thinking, she turned herself to face him fully, even leaning over their bundled-up legs. “But wait, since when is Casey’s dad all about you? No… offense, it’s just you and Casey would talk about how hard he’d been on you when you’d wanna take Casey out and-stuff.”
“The way he put it? He didn’t know how good he’d had it with me,” Zeke replied.
“So he… AND you… you’re both teaming-up to break them up?” Delilah gave Zeke a wary gaze; he sensed disapproval, and knew why. Felt why.
“Ye-e-eah, but… it’s looking… not that doable,” Zeke said. He took another big sip, until three-quarters of the coffee was gone. It was put aside for now in favor of another cigarette. “It’s like-Mr. C. wants me to get them apart, which is already sketchy. Even if I DID plot and scheme them into a break-up, even if Casey never found out about it… I dunno. It doesn’t feel right. And it’s not like him being single again means we give him and me a second go.”
“Well, besides this all sounding, as you said, ‘sketchy’-and it kinda is…” Delilah sank back a little. Zeke watched as she grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. As she lit up, he snorted.
“Since when have you smoked?” he asked.
“Social smoker. Being around you, it’s impossible to stop myself.”
“And of course, they’re girl smokes…” Zeke joked, motioning to the pink colored pack of ‘Misty’ now getting tossed on the coffee table.
“Do you want to be with him?”
Being shifted back for Delilah to finish her question made Zeke’s smile dim, until it fled from his face entirely. Instead of Delilah pressing for an answer through the pause he made, she took a heavy drag and watched him. He rested his side on the back of the couch and braced his forehead on his hand. “You do know why we broke up, right?” he finally asked.
“Yeah, Casey gave me a ‘Cliff Notes’ version. It was enough to make me stay quiet, between the both of you,” she said. “Never got your take on it.”
“No one did. I didn’t bother. In fact… I didn’t even really say much to Casey. Meaning, the night we broke it off.”
“Huh? What-happened? Like I said, Casey only talked about wanting to come out, with you being… scared about it.”
The pause between ‘being’ and ‘scared’ was telling. “Y’mean, I was being a chicken-shit?” Zeke said. The light pink growing on Delilah’s cheeks spoke for her; Zeke made a wry, humorless smirk as he turned to stare at a loose thread of the blanket he was picking at. “That was his favorite word for more than a week before calling it quits. When he first said it, he made it more… teasing. The last time he said it, it was surrounded by spitting and cursing. It was almost like I didn’t know him.”
“I… if I could offer any-thing up as explanation, like-if you don’t know…” Delilah paused again to stretch her cigarette out toward the ashtray, which sat on the table closest to Zeke. The young man smirked, grabbed it and put it between them. Delilah looked skeptical. “This is a nice blanket, looks hand-stitched; sure you wanna risk getting a burn-“
“There are plenty already. Go on,” Zeke said.
After a long breath, Delilah said, “Casey and I had been in the paper’s office, going over assignments for the next week. One of the things we needed a photog for was the winter formal, right after Christmas vaca. The only ones available were Casey and my sophomore camera girl, Johanna, and Jo had asked if she could do anything but the formal. She’d just started dating a junior guy and he’d gotten them tickets. So I’d already assigned her the next two basketball games and told Casey he’d be on the formal cam-crew.” She paused again for another drag, along with a tired sigh. “You know me, I like being ‘the boss’. And up until then, Casey would just nod and go wherever I pointed him. But he suddenly got pissy, telling me, ‘yeah, I’m the safe one to ask for this crap’, all ‘as if I really AM single’, blah, blah… so I spat a few things back, all about how yeah, his position sucked but I wasn’t his emotional punching bag.”
Zeke gazed at the girl with deep interest. He hadn’t been told any backstories, involving their friends; besides Stan letting Zeke know that Casey had been really frustrated over stuff, at the ‘beginning of the end’, Zeke had been in the dark. With his cigarette dying, he grabbed another, lit it on the embers of the old and sank back again. “Go on,” he said.
“He just got real quiet. Really, really quiet. After I moved onto the next subject of which of his pics were his top choices when it came to the ‘Winter Wonderland’ spread on the back page, he just said, ‘I’m sorry, Del,’ all sad and looking embarrassed. I figured he had a lot going on, so-scrapped our one-on-one, told him to get his stuff and that I was taking him out for a milkshake at my fave diner. I’ve always known that when he’s got something sweet to eat, he opens up.”
The memory of Casey’s sweet tooth, something that was Casey’s Achille’s Heel when it came to easing his woes and even healed things between them when they’d have their spats, made Zeke grin a little. “Yep, I used gummy bears to get outta trouble a whole fucking lot,” he said, which made Delilah grin back.
“How he hasn’t rotted out every tooth is a miracle, yeah. So… yeah…” Delilah put her cigarette out and shifted a little. “The second we were sitting at ‘Darcy’s and got our shakes and big plate of waffle fries, he started venting about being in the library that morning, working on a project, when Allison Sweeney walked over. Since all anyone thought all you guys were were ‘best buds’, she started asking about you… as in, if you were dating anyone. He was on the spot and of course, he couldn’t say, ‘yeah me, so step off, bitch.’ So she handed him this note and-well, told him to tell you what she wanted to do with you, if you wanted.”
“I… he never gave me a note-never told me about this at all,” Zeke said, feeling dizzy over what he was hearing. He held his head again, this time lacing his fingers through his bangs to hold on, keep his brain still. “If he had, I dunno… we coulda…”
“What? You would’ve come out, like Casey started begging you about?” Delilah asked.
“I dunno. But… something. It’s all retrospect, now,” Zeke replied. He closed his eyes a moment. “So, lemmee guess; he wanted me off anyone and everyone’s radar, singles-wise?”
“Yeah. That, and…” Delilah took another deep breath, eyes widening a little as if she was exasperated. “…He started asking me what I thought about that dance-how he’d never been to one, it hadn’t mattered to him before, then… bang. It’s suddenly everything he wanted.”
“So we come out AND walk into a metaphorical lion’s den? With crappy top forty music, and everything?”
“Zeke, he’d never been to one. He may have started his school career as the resident, hopeless geek and STAYED that way… but he hadn’t felt hopeless with you.” She wore a meaningful look now, her gaze on him soft and understanding. “He said that… every time he felt scared about coming-out, he’d think about you standing right next to him, making sure nothing happened to him. He’d even think about jumping on the back of anyone who’d try and fight you over it.”
“If that’s what he’d wanted as a part of our relationship, well-too bad,” Zeke said, putting more strength behind the words than he’d intended. It left Delilah quiet; as she reached to her cigarettes for another round, Zeke shook his head and put it back on the couch. “We were-good. Really, fucking, good, Del. He did shit for me, made me feel shit I hadn’t before, and I’d felt like I was doing the same for him.”
“You had, Zeke. Seriously.”
“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t enough for him, right?” Zeke felt restless all of a sudden; the coffee was getting to him, along with the giant amount of things left unsaid, all wanting to come out at once. However safe he was right now, confiding in Delilah, he suddenly wanted out. He stood in a shot and grabbed his mug, muttering, “More coffee, want some?” to the girl as he left.
“I’ll come with,” Delilah said.
Back in the kitchen, Zeke surveyed what was left over in the pot. There was just enough for two, so he gave each mug a refill halfway, leaving room for their additions. He made his with two shots of Bailey’s this time. “Careful, there,” Delilah warned, fighting a small smile on her face.
“Be happy it ain’t just straight up grain alcohol, at this point. This is the night to make a spleef with the last of my stash, I’ll say that,” he replied.
Delilah took her drink and they returned to the living room. As the girl settled back into her spot on the couch, Zeke grabbed the remote and turned the TV on again. It was an ‘I Love Lucy’ marathon, apparently, providing just enough background noise to distract Zeke with. Delilah was more intent on getting back to where they’d left, however, saying, “Casey… he has this ‘thing’, I’m sure you know what I mean… where he wants to have, I dunno, like-landmarks, maybe. In relationships,” she said. “Think of just his camera obsession. He’s not happy in just having the memory of something. He wants to fill photo albums with favorite meals, sunsets, sun-ups, whatever. Things that get taken for granted, he fills display cases with.”
“Yeah, displays… exactly what I didn’t want ‘us’ to be for everyone to gawk and take shots at. I wanted just. Us,” he haltingly replied. “So color me selfish that I didn’t wanna hear about him getting his ass kicked for being a ‘disgusting fag’, or for me to relive the fifth grade.”
“Huh?” Delilah said.
“Not getting into it. Just know that my social-status didn’t always have the ‘cool’ tacked onto ‘loner’.”
“I wasn’t always in line for the throne, myself.”
Zeke looked to her with a furrowed brow. “Fuckin’ liar.”
“No, I’m not. When did you get into Herrington? Had to be after I was in fourth grade, if you don’t remember all the girls in town treating me like a pariah-all because I came from a working-class family that couldn’t afford fancy labels,” she said.
“Had to be, cos’ as far as I can remember, you sniff your nose at drugstore cosmetics aisles and Blue Light Specials,” Zeke said, smirking a little. “What happened? Lucky ticket, bought on a lark?”
“Dad died is what happened. What he couldn’t provide working as a grunt in the factory, he made up for in life insurance policies.”
Zeke felt like throwing his head directly into the edge of his coffee table. He knew enough about Delilah’s losing her dad in the sickeningly early way she had. ‘Wow, don’t YOU look like a prick right now?’ he thought as he rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, babe. I shoulda connected the dots,” he said.
“Don’t feel bad. Seriously,” she said with a somber but warm smile.
“Can’t promise that, but… whatever.” He lifted the blanket over his lap and legs to stretch his arm out. “C’mere, I’m like a furnace, if you need it.”
Delilah looked both skeptical and giddy as she shuffled over. With tentative, ‘we’re just friends’ careful movements, she found a comfortable spot out of Zeke’s hip, side and under the arm he let rest over her shoulders and the couch. “Dang, you ARE warm…” she remarked, eyes set ahead on the TV.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed as he recalled the last person to find shelter in Zeke’s surprisingly and always warm body. The first bitter cold snap of an Ohio winter had rolled in right before Thanksgiving, early enough to have Casey make the mistake of wearing a light jacket on his walk to Zeke’s. While Zeke readied himself properly for their long drive to the mall, Casey had lamented not breaking the seal of the family’s ‘winter storage’ in the hall closet for his favorite thick, wool coat. All of Zeke’s coats, his AND the ones his father had left behind, had been way too big.
“We’ll hop back to your place, get you something more sustainable,” he’d said while rubbing Casey’s shivering arms in his front doorway. Before opening it to set off, Casey had wrapped his arms around Zeke, humming contentedly.
“Just gimmee-somma this for a minute, so it keeps me warm on the way.”
Zeke had done so, gladly, going so far as to rub his hands in wide, brisk motions on Casey’s shoulders, back and lower. The memory of Casey’s soft giggles warming the collar of his shirt and neck made present-time Zeke shift a little. Doing so, he moved against Delilah; he stiffened a little, feeling the side of her breast, hiding underneath an excruciatingly soft sweater brush against his ribs. She shifted along with him, until they both settled in again. This time, Zeke felt another restless rush tingling from his neck to his fingers, shoulders to navel, navel to toes, and everywhere in between. His nervous system was screaming for him to leap from the couch and let off steam with a few hundred jumping jacks. It was either that or what Zeke chose instead, which was turning his head, meeting Delilah’s eyes then lowering his lips to hers.
It didn’t occur to him that there was the possibility of the girl shoving him away and popping him one on the mouth he’d suddenly decided needed hers. But when all she did was stay still and move against him just the littlest bit, he felt encouraged enough to take hold of the side of her face, cradling it with his thumb next to her eye, pinky extended to her chin. With one tilt of his head the kiss deepened, Delilah following his lead as he opened their mouths together. She felt pliant and open, open to anything. Whenever he’d decided to bring his other hand to cup her left breast, he didn’t know-but he was there anyway, dragging his thumb up and around the ridge of what had to be expensive French silk and over a hardening nipple. The soft moan Delilah made tickled Zeke’s lips, tongue, all the way to his throat, exciting him further. Everything changed when suddenly, Delilah reached down between them and placed her hand over his jeans’ button, zip then slid down to rest her fingers over the bulge she’d made for him. Two moments arrived, the first being Zeke wanting nothing more than to tear his jeans open to tug them and the waist of his boxers down, shove Delilah’s skirt up to her neck and tug her underwear to the side to start a wild, wonderful fuck for them both. But in the second moment, Zeke realized, ‘What the FUCK am I doing?’ and stopped everything in unlatching their mouths, letting a shaky breath escape and giving her a shell-shocked stare.
“I’m… so-“
“Yeah. Casey’s out of his mind.” Delilah interrupted. She wore a wide grin; Zeke wondered if she was going to try to get them ‘back to business’, and didn’t know how he’d be able to stop it if she did. Instead, she let everything go with a sigh, turned away and returned to her relaxing against Zeke without a sign that it’d be anything more than two just-friends, and-that’s-it relaxing together. “Don’t say ‘I’m sorry’, Zeke, no need. I’m sorrier for that little idiot who broke up with you.”
Zeke blinked furiously for a handful of moments, not exactly knowing what had just happened. In the end, he figured he didn’t have to know, didn’t have to worry over things going suddenly sour between he and the girl who was still smiling-glowing, even. She’d had herself a nice enough ‘visit’ with Zeke’s sensual side, it seemed, however cut-short it’d been. Still, Zeke lit two cigarettes from his pack and handed her one. “Here, smoke a proper man’s cigarette,” he told her.
“You were wonderful,” she said past rampant chuckles, taking her first drag without issue. They fell silent for a little while, choosing to watch the classic comedienne’s antics on the set. When the episode came to an end and another one began, Delilah sighed and said, “You and Casey’s dad have your thing going… and I’ll have mine. Trust that, ‘k?”
“You’ll have your… what?” Zeke asked, turning to look at the girl through the cloudy haze they were both making.
“My thing. Oh, shh, love this episode…”
Again, there were some things Zeke didn’t, wouldn’t or couldn’t know. Considering the secrets he was currently maintaining, he had to respect someone else’s. He was too comfortable in mind and body right now to press the issue, anyway.
~*~
The possibility of another storm turning Wednesday into a Sunday was squashed out with one strong Canadian push of wind. School was canceled for a good number of towns just south of Herrington, due to their getting the brunt of snow. All Zeke saw waking up and looking through his window was a dusting, barely coating shoveled streets and sidewalks.
But Zeke did have a pleasant surprise a few steps into the school in finding Casey waiting at his locker. As he approached, Casey spotted him, straightened and smiled. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back, you liar,” Zeke said. Casey frowned.
“Liar? How so?”
“You promised me another snow day yesterday, at the park. Yet we’re here. So you’re a liar.”
“Oh, right… if you wanna keep bitching, get channel twenty-five’s number and demand they fire that Chris what’s-his-face, the weather guy. HE’S the rotten, scumbag liar.”
Zeke chuckled, opened his locker then asked, “What brings you to number one-oh-seven?” he said, rapping his locker with his knuckles while his other hand forced his coat into the messy depths.
“Wanted to ask a favor. When I dropped off the film at the shop, Mr. Tillman said he’d have ‘em done by noon… but they’re closing early to go visit their new grandson,” he explained. “Three o’clock. Any way you could run me to the bank then shoot back into downtown to get ‘em?”
“Guess so. No plans after school for me, so sure,” Zeke said. “Though where’s your bank?”
“Polish National, in the Main Street shops plaza.”
Zeke wrinkled his nose. “Kind of a clusterfuck of traveling, outta here, then the bank, the photo place… might not make it in time.”
“With the way you drive?” Casey joked, making Zeke chuckle.
“Well, still. How about we make the trip shorter and go to ‘Shots’ there, I’ll pay then the bank? Not that it matters much to me, getting paid back, but… I remember your rules,” Zeke said.
A soft, sweet expression came on Casey’s face. “I guess. Though you’re sure you can cover it? Three rolls, at least forty if they give me my usual discount…?”
“No sweat. If I don’t catch up with you during the day, just meet me here when they open the cell doors,” Zeke said. Casey nodded.
“Cool. Thanks-for the ride and time-saving option,” he said before backing away, making one last big grin then turning around to head to homeroom. Zeke watched him go, sighing to himself.
‘When was the last time he got into the car for a ride?’ he thought in a wistful voice.
~*~
It was like traveling back in time the moment Casey got into the passenger seat and buckled in. He looked excited and ready to go, like he’d always been every time he and Zeke had set off together, together. The only difference was that they were wearing coats, scarves, hats and gloves, instead of that one beautiful day Casey had slipped his sandals off, crossed his feet out the opened window and sang along to Cyndi Lauper on the radio. He’d hollered “BOYS!” over Cyndi’s “girls”, convincing Zeke that yes, boys just wanna-have-fun.
And here he was now, prattling on about how he dearly hoped the sledding-shots he’d taken came out perfect, instead of his fearing they’d be blurred and unrecognizable. “’Been practicing action shots a lot, but… what I wouldn’t do for a better cam,” he said with a sigh.
“Start hinting now; Valentine’s Day is only a week away,” Zeke said, managing to wink Casey’s way with a teasing grin on his face.
“Hah, nope; remember, my rules forbid it,” Casey replied. “I only let my parents and grandparents get shit I need, at holidays. Only holidays.”
“So if the best camera ever made was suddenly on your doorstep, you’d go David Beckham on it and kick it into traffic?”
“No. I’d bug the shit outta everyone I knew to return it to them. You know I’m good at bugging people.”
‘Damned straight,’ Zeke thought, half-amused, half-remembering-too-well. The last light before the main drag turned green, but the minivan in front of them didn’t share the sentiment. “Jesus, go!” Zeke yelled, honking the horn to get their attention. As the van pulled forward in shocked jerks and turned, Casey began chortling.
“Dude, it just changed. Miss your Adderall this morn, Mr. ADHD-headcase?” he taunted.
“Pssh. I wish. Could barely stay awake, especially in Olsen’s class,” Zeke said. The reminder of how boring today’s history lesson had been made him yawn through the turn. A spot close to the shop was just ahead, so he gunned-it the last handful of yards, stopped and did the usual perfect parallel parking job. “Here,” he said, digging his wallet out, opening it and handing over two twenties. “No change for the meter. If I ain’t here when you get back out, just wait a few secs for me to get around the block. No meter-reader’s caught me yet.”
“Hah, I’ll be quick!” Casey said as he leapt from the car and jogged his way to the shop. Zeke sank back in his seat, opening his window wider to let the smoke from his cigarette escape. He stared at the burning embers at the end, feeling hypnotized.
‘Wanna grab something to eat, go over the pics together?’ he planned on asking. He’d treat, of course, and he hoped Casey accepted. If anything, the boy could leave the tip. That’s how they’d gone about it, back then. ‘Back then’ being just over a month ago, a space of time that felt so short, too close to the ‘now’ things were. Maybe in being alone with Casey, they could really talk; no one wandering around to overhear them as it’d been by those vending machines, no interruptions from friends while sledding…
“Back in record time!” Casey, hopping back in the car carrying a thick plastic bag with the ‘Shot Spot’ logo, said.
“I’ll say. Nice job,” Zeke said. As he’d left the car running, he shoved the shift to ‘drive’, checked the mirrors then set off down the road again. “Is Polish National there on the T.J. Maxx end, or the Dunks?”
“T.J., between them and ‘Radio Shack’,” Casey said. “Where do I put your change?”
“Eh, hold onto it ‘til we get there.”
“Got the receipt with the bills…”
“Uh, I sorta… trust you,” Zeke said, chuckling.
“Lemmee just…”
Zeke watched in the corner of his eye at Casey’s rifling around in the bag. The boy was opening each envelope and taking quick peeks into each one. “How’d they come out?” Zeke said.
“Not gonna fully look ‘til after the bank. You gotta jet, or you wanna sit a while looking through ‘em?” Casey asked.
“’Was actually gonna ask if you wanted to hang out at ‘Darcy’s’ after this, grab… a shake or something and relive ‘days gone by’ with the photos,” Zeke said with a grin.
“Y’mean ‘day gone by’. I promise, I won’t weep with the overwhelming nostalgia.” The two of them shared a chuckle, then Casey shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?”
“Cool,” Zeke said.
It was only a few minutes later when they got past the last intersection before the first entrance to the long array of stores. Zeke was glad they were heading to the first cluster, avoiding the death trap that was the second entranceway that led to the town favorite’s like ‘Applebee’s’ and ‘Forever 21’. It was still busy enough for Zeke to have to scan the area for a space, finally settling on giving Casey some exercise in taking a spot further away than he usually got. No complaints came from the boy, however. “Tell you what; take the receipt, I’ll keep the change and just take forty out, flat. Well, sixty. Might wanna gorge on Darcy’s surf-and-turf platter.”
“I’ll pay?”
“Eh!” Casey scolded before getting out of the car, dropping two packets of pictures on the seat. With a final warning of, “And no peeking!” he shut the door and walked off toward the far off corner of the plaza where his bank sat.
Zeke shut the engine off, not wanting to waste the gas if Casey met up with a mile-long line. He tugged his foot up to cram it between the wheel and his other knee. He was doing his best to not look right to Casey’s seat, where the pictures sat. They lingered over to them anyway, starting with a few darting glances, until he was outright staring at them. The bag sitting on the floor held the third envelope full of pictures. Perhaps Casey had checked to see which rolls were from their day out, and which were going to the papers. It didn’t matter if Zeke knew that wasn’t the case; every shot had been taken in his range. But if Casey came back and caught him sneaking around, he could easily feign interest in wanting to know what was in store for Herrington High in next week’s edition of the rag no one with sense really read.
‘Anyway, he should’ve known better and taken them WITH him,’ Zeke thought, sniggering like a villain as he snatched up the bag, reached inside and took the envelope. He made sure to take a quick check at the faraway bank-oh, the kid had just gotten inside, giving him plenty of time-then opened the flap to drop the pile of pictures inside into his hand.
The mischievous grin snapped away from his face in one shot at what he revealed. There had been a reason for Casey’s dividing up the envelopes-for his making the quick check of what each one contained, to begin with. Zeke wouldn’t have been given permission to spread any of these pictures out for a viewing at the diner. No one but Casey and Jeremy were allowed to see the shots they’d made of each other, and expertly so. Zeke was frozen in his spot, eyes wide and unblinking as he set his stare on the black-and-white image of two boys sharing a kiss. ‘Are… they wearing…’ he thought with a heavy swallow, but in seeing the collar of Casey’s geeky plaid at the bottom of the picture, he had a brief, strange moment of comfort. It escaped him in the next moment when he saw how far the left side of the collar was, almost exposing Casey’s shoulder.
‘Put these back, put them the fuck back!’ his brain screamed at his hands, but they hadn’t heard it. Instead, they pushed that shot to the side to see the next, and the next, the next, each image making the tremor in his lower lip worse and worse. It was as if Casey had taken these for a flipbook project, where each kiss displayed was only a little different than the last. By the sixth picture, the shirt was gone, replaced with an unobstructed view of pale flesh and darker gray circles, where Jeremy’s hand roamed. ‘They’re really pink. Prettiest fucking pink,’ Zeke thought as he stared at the perked flesh, which Jeremy’s thumb was more than likely headed.
It only grew more gut-churning when the angle changed and the two boys were now situated on the bed. Casey didn’t have to worry about his skill at getting ‘action shots’, even if Zeke could tell that they’d moved slow and easy for this set. The one of Jeremy on his back, Casey straddling him and bending down, smiling lips parted open to capture the moment before a lover’s kiss made Zeke’s eyes burn, his mouth go dry and knees start to shake. The sudden, ugly shout inside of him, bellowing, ‘Get your hands off of MY fucking boy!’ was jarring enough for him to quake all over and look up. Seeing the door open made him panic and start shoving everything back into place, but he went still when an older woman and a toddler came out instead. He had enough time to get them back neatly, to give nothing away.
‘Just fucking let it go,’ he thought when he was sure everything was set to rights, no evidence to trace back to him. The envelope was put back into the bag then dropped to the floor; he sat up and immediately lit a cigarette, hoping to calm his nerves. Closing his eyes usually helped get his mind back in order, take away some stimulation. All that managed to do now was let him see fuzzy shadows and muted light that streamed down at him through the windshield. It was a lot like those pictures-black and white, detailed, flashes of flesh he used to know and wanted back, god damn it. He tried imagining shots in one of the other envelopes depicting himself entering the room, each timed shot capturing the violent yanking of Jeremy’s arm to get him off the bed, make one perfectly-placed punch then getting atop Casey’s body to convince him that what he’d done was done, and right. There wasn’t enough film in the world that could truly capture what Zeke wanted to do with him, when those fucking shots were taken and now.
‘Now’ was something that didn’t belong to him, however. The expressions Casey’s camera had captured had once belonged to Zeke, but they were now being made with another. ‘He’s a fucking asshole, a snobby little PRICK who doesn’t deserve him!’ was Zeke’s main thought, but the one that kept sneaking in after it created a hot, angry pit in Zeke’s belly: ‘And Casey seems to love him, doesn’t he?’
It couldn’t be denied. Even if the boy hadn’t come-out like he so wanted to, enough that he broke shit off… well, Zeke wasn’t going to jump into any fights if any of the jocks learned of Jeremy, who he was to Casey, would he? No bodyguard services, though maybe if Casey wanted to brave it, he’d beg Zeke to ‘save him’, even offer pay. That’s what he did with his hobbies; his cash, no one else’s. He didn’t want to owe anyone a thing.
Zeke jerked his brain back to the very idea that brought him to this weird thought pattern: Casey hadn’t come out. What that started to imply made the ugliest, darkest feelings rise up and take Zeke over, just as the passenger side door opened and Casey hopped in.
“Hey, sorry… long line,” Casey said while grabbing the loose envelopes from the seat to put into his lap. He busied himself with the seatbelt again, not catching Zeke’s pale face and blank expression. When he turned to him to hand over the cash he’d gotten, he went still and frowned. “Uh… you okay?”
However difficult it was to do, Zeke broke out of his haze and tried to look at the boy. His head would only turn so much. ‘I’ll see the fucking pictures,’ he thought before clearing his throat and saying, “Yeah. Just-got a call, while you were in there,” he managed to lie. With his hand going to his brow and rubbing it, he said, “I, uh, gotta get to my own bank, pronto. I guess Mom tried sending the usual cash to the main account, but… it didn’t show up in the online-banking list.”
“Oh. Sounds complicated.”
‘No. Fucking. Lie,’ Zeke sniffed in a sharp intake of breath and tried making a sad-sounding groan. “Yeah, gonna be a hassle. So, uh… gonna have to drop you off at home and take care of this shit. Sorry.”
It didn’t occur to him that this was the first real lie he’d ever told Casey; the boy was perceptive enough to tell the differences between reasons and excuses, but Zeke must have sounded convincing enough. “Sorry, man. And yeah, we’ll raincheck it,” he said with a muted smile. He faced forward and grabbed the bag from the floor as Zeke pulled away from the spot and headed to the exit. Noticing how the envelopes he’d taken out were now going back into the bag made Zeke’s hands clench on the wheel. The mood he was in could spell disaster, involving blown reds and obituaries. If he wasn’t so scared of what could happen in his needing to pull over to cry and yell at Casey-for what exactly, he couldn’t quite tell-he would. It’d all come out a garbled, nonsensical mess, making him do his best to focus on the road and keep his foot from turning into a block of lead.
The ride to Casey’s house was short, thankfully. Once at the curb in front of the modest house, Casey undid his seatbelt, opened his door and turned back to Zeke. “Thanks-for all the help,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” Zeke managed to return a weak but visible smile, even if his only thought was, ‘Get the fuck out of my car, please; and take your personal porn collection with you.’
“So seriously, what about tomorrow? After school?” Casey asked. “That’s if you get this bank shit sorted without blitzing yourself into being absent tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Zeke said. “See ya later.”
Casey nodded once, gave Zeke one last happy smile then made his exit. Zeke’s first instinct was to tear away, squealing tires and all, but forced the urge down to get to the end of the street, crawl to the stop sign and make a full stop. A long stop. If anyone was behind him, he’d be deafened by the angry, impatient honking. With gritted teeth, he cut the wheel and took the left turn in a squealing, screeching mess. A man walking his dog a small way’s down jerked and turned to yell at Zeke, going Doppler-Effected with the speed Zeke had already gotten to. Zeke thought an angry, ‘FUCK you!’ at the guy, already a tiny speck in Zeke’s rearview. Instead of blowing the next stop sign and careening left toward home, Zeke roared the GTO to a halt, gave a quick left and right check then chose to go right-to where, he didn’t know.
‘Louisiana. Fuck it,’ he irrationally pondered on. What did he have, here in Herrington? Friends, yes, but he was replaceable enough for them to eventually forget about. After all, Casey strode on with his head held high after ousting Zeke from his social calendar. No fuss, no muss, just boyfriend-number-two mere weeks into being single. Stumbling upon the thought of, ‘Maybe Jeremy had come around before we’d…’ was something too hurtful to make complete in Zeke’s mind. But who really knew? Looking down, he almost shocked himself into a crash in seeing the needle of the speedometer trembling just under the one hundred mark. That was common enough on the highway, but here on this country road… was he even in fucking Herrington anymore? Seeing a patch of worn dirt a few car-lengths wide and long made him put on the brakes, gently enough so as not to skid the car over the guardrail and into the darkening woods beyond.
The car sat rumbling, as if begging for Zeke to keep going; she liked going fast, always sounding the healthiest when taking things light-speed. But in looking toward the trees, seeing the icicles dropping from branches with piles of snow lining each limb, he realized the extra-level of risk he’d so mindlessly taken in the last ten minutes. He choked out a painful gasp of air at the same time as he shut the engine off. That alone made something in him deflate-made him feel everything so much deeper and sharper. He slumped forward with his arms draped over the wheel, all for his head to rest on his wrists and his chokes became sobs, until finally, his eyes overflowed. The moment they did, a fist was formed and brought in a series of hard, steel-crushing punches on the dash.
“FUCK you, you f-fucking…” he yelled to no one. Perhaps he was yelling at Casey, because that’s who he was crying over-and if there was one thing that only stoked his anger into white-hot, flaming rage, it was crying.
Though at his second bellowed howl that sank into a keening wail, Mr. Connor came to mind as someone to get Zeke cursing at. There he’d been, cozy and comfortable in his family-run place of business, and Frank had felt it perfectly fine to barge in on his easygoing night. When even the cops turned a blind eye to Zeke’s meandering around where he wasn’t allowed to be, it felt even more of an intrusion, Frank’s showing up… a ‘man with a plan’ who wanted to rope Zeke in to such a ridiculous, stupid scheme. He’d seen no problem, his putting Zeke into a situation like this, only to reignite the hot, hurtful things Zeke had done so well at putting in his past.
Thinking that put a slow but steady end to the wailing and slamming his fist; his hand stayed clenched on the spot he’d been bashing to hell, but the energy to keep up that way of ‘venting’ slipped away. All energy that had fueled his angry explosion was dying, leaving him with the thought that-with his being here, now, doing what he was doing?
‘You’ve always been good, covering shit up,’ he allowed himself to think and take as truth. That’s what he was doing right now, still crying and having each breath go in and out a shuddering sigh; he was telling the truth, even if it was only to himself. He started to read each tear escaping as singular, personal truths, which he was too scared to voice at the moment. But he still translated them, best he could, until a calm settled in enough for him to unfold himself away from the wheel, sit up and take even breaths.
He’d give himself a few minutes to make sure he was able to turn back around, obey traffic signs and keep the needle at forty, at the most. Tonight’s plan would be simple, consisting of throwing a TV dinner in the microwave, another full pot of coffee put together than a few hours’ worth of TV watching. He’d wait until after the Connors’ usual dinner time to text Mr. Connor, letting him know that it was clear, by everything he’d seen in just a few days, Casey wanted Jeremy. Not Zeke. The man was just going to have to deal with it, and leave Zeke out of it from now on. ‘It’s nice, when you’re cared about,’ Zeke thought as he brought the GTO’s engine to life and got back on the road to head home. Being with Casey in the time he had-it hadn’t all been a lie. If it had, Zeke would have kept up with the plan, kept fighting for someone who, by all evidence, had ended up not caring for Zeke enough to hang on. But Zeke knew he was worth getting cared-for, treated right. It was the one thing he’d give Casey thanks for, if anything.
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past), some surprise het I hadn't planned but it happened anyway, lol...
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Confusion and regrets abound, Zeke shuts shit down.
The last two slices of veggie-loaded pizza was put in the fridge, along with the bottle of soda someone had left out on the kitchen counter. If Zeke got hungry enough, maybe he’d give the odd meal a try. Maybe. He shut the fridge and turned to the sink, where a few piles of dishes sat waiting to be cleaned. While he usually tried to stay ahead-of-the-game with household chores… “Fuck it,” he said aloud, choosing instead to head back into the living room. He dropped himself on the couch in a heap; his muscles were starting to ache from the day’s outdoor activities, and there was still a chill in his bones that had refused the fireplace’s heat. He tugged at the heavy wool quilt on the back of the couch and wrapped it haphazardly over himself as he lit up, grabbed the remote and started his lazy, wind-down night. But while he felt his body sink into the couch and relax, his brain whirred and spun with deep, heavy thoughts.
Jeremy and Casey had been the first of the group to leave, Delilah deciding to join them. That’d been due to their wanting to get their film to Casey’s favorite photo shop for developing. Zeke had watched the odd exchange between he and his boyfriend, the latter insisting he not only take Casey’s rolls out to his favorite in Ravenna-insisting it was so much better, used ‘only the best’-but pay for the lot. It brought Zeke back to those days he’d drive out to whatever remote area or a national park, all to follow Casey around in the search for picture-prospects that’d assure Casey a spot in the art hall’s display cases. There’d been one trip that had sucked up four whole rolls of film, most of the shots taken up by the doe and her fawn they’d come across. Zeke’s lack of interest in photography hadn’t mattered; the fact that they’d gotten so close to them, enough for Casey’s zooming in make it look like they’d sat right next to them, had been a truly magical, enchanting experience. Whether it’d been the fact that Hollow Point National Park was a wildlife preserve which made the deer less shy, no fear of hunters involved, Zeke had definitely felt the closest to nature that day than any other.
He’d been excited and eager for Casey to develop the film, wanting to have copies of the shots Casey took in backing up so Zeke was featured with the mom and baby mere yards ahead of him. “Let’s bring ‘em to the Walgreens there, the one-hour photo thing,” he’d said.
Casey had chuckled. “No, no-o-o, I’m a ‘shop local’ guy,” he’d said. He gave the barebones of how much better it was to go to ‘Shot-Spot’ in downtown Herrington, which was run by an elderly and skilled husband and wife. According to Casey, they’d put their shop up before Herrington was Herrington, and gave him great discounts on developing, tools and other services for his patronage. “It takes at least a full day to get ‘em back… and anyway, the bank’s closed so I’ll have to rape my savings tomorrow to get the funds.”
It only came natural to Zeke, offering up the shiny, big nickel it’d cost to have them in-hand the next day. But when it came to this hobby specifically, Casey didn’t just want to cover any and all expenses toward it; he needed to. It was his and his alone, not wanting any piece to be attached to anyone else. Every allowance, money gift on holidays and birthdays and lawn-mowing job would get put into his savings, the vast percentage of it going toward Casey’s most loved, most vibrant skill-set. He’d barely spoken the words, “No offense, it’s not that I don’t wanna share it, but-“ before Zeke told him that he got it. That he respected the philosophy, to the point where it was admirable.
“But I AM buying dinner,” he’d said, which Casey was willing to take, and enjoy.
So when Jeremy had all but started begging Casey to “let me do it, you know it’s not an issue for me!” Zeke had been tempted to give him a piece of his mind. There was a clear difference between how Casey approached his hobby and the guy who didn’t GET that approach. Casey’s love of the local photo geeks and their shop, along with the character he put into his trade was unrecognizable to the young man who could buy-out ‘Shot-Spot’, along with HIS local favorite without batting an eye.
He had relented, but not without pointing out that he was in a better position to swallow the costs. That was how he was, and it annoyed Zeke to no end; everything past his wallet went blurry, gold and platinum Visas blocking his view of who Casey, and nearly everyone around him, was, how they all lived. It didn’t matter if Zeke’s coffers were bursting at the seams with cash, himself. It just sat there, dipped into occasionally when something expensive caught his fancy. Otherwise, money felt cold and meaningless, considering its source. If he’d been given the choice between having loving, attentive parents and the checks they sent him from whatever foreign country they’d touched-down on that day, he’d take the former. He didn’t know Jeremy’s entire family history, if his parents were always gone working to keep up their lush lifestyle. Zeke knew there were servants, so there’d probably been a few nannies in the guy’s childhood. Whatever stories behind Jeremy’s habit of bragging and-or touting his wealth, he needed to wake the fuck up and realize how many times he’d step in it in one, single solitary social interaction.
Therein lay the problem Zeke was encountering; ‘stepping in it’ was different than a deliberate, cruel attempt to outright poor-shame anyone. No matter how much Zeke wanted to write him off as a jerk, unworthy of Casey’s affection, he kept hitting the wall. He’d seen enough to know these were accidents, Jeremy having a block of some kind. Zeke wondered what Jeremy would say or do if he, or anyone else, finally dared telling him what kind of faux pas he’d committed throughout a visit. It was obvious no one had, because Zeke figured his jaw would drop, his face would go red and he’d start apologizing, embarrassed at his making those mistakes. Because there were redeemable things about the guy, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He hadn’t bought that pizza with any “because I can, being so wealthy!” attached to the offer. It’d been a warm and welcome gesture, a ‘thanks for letting me join you guys!’ Though half of the offering was a disaster, he’d had the sense to make the other half simpler. Stan had probably never seen an eggplant before in his life, never mind eaten any.
The worst of it all couldn’t be denied; Zeke had caught the way Casey had looked at Jeremy throughout the day, the familiar pitch of his laughs, his voice when he’d talk to him directly. It was familiar for a reason. There was the Casey that was a devoted son, the Casey that was a trusted friend, and the Casey who was falling in love. However soft and tentative he was taking things with Jeremy, he felt comfortable in taking the new relationship’s path with him. Jeremy, too, was comfortable with Casey, showing it even more than Casey was. There was a confidence to the guy, which felt honest and natural, no posturing or grandstanding involved. In the present, Zeke looked to the coffee table at his phone.
Mr. Connor was probably aching for a ‘report’ on their day out. Zeke had no idea on what that reporting would involve. He couldn’t tell the man that he was full-steam-ahead on their shared want to get Jeremy out of the way, but he didn’t want to bail on the idea, either. Though whether it was from seeing something nasty enough in Jeremy or his wanting to see that, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t go balls-out without being sure. He picked up the phone but kept staring at it, all while the Hallmark Channel played an episode of ‘I Love Lucy’ in the background…
He jumped in his seat when the phone started ringing. ‘Oh god, it’s him…’ he worried, especially with it being a call, rather than text. But in looking at the caller ID, he frowned at the sight of Delilah’s number sitting there on the screen. He pressed ‘Take Call’ and said, “Hello?”
“Hey… you alone?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Cool, just wanted to check. I’m gonna head back for a chat. In private.”
Zeke blinked furiously, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Okay… everything a’right?”
“Oh yeah, just-like you don’t know.”
“I don’t.”
“Be there in five.”
Zeke didn’t get the chance to reply. The girl hung up, leaving him staring at the glowing screen saying ‘Call duration: 00:36. You have 08h02m left on your Sprint call plan’.
He’d just pressed ‘on’ on his coffeemaker a few minutes later when the doorbell rang. He peeked down the hall, finding Delilah stepping past the opened door. “Hey,” he called.
“Hey back,” she said. She stripped her coat off and stomped her classy-looking boots on the doormat to remove the snow. “Picked something up at T.J. Maxx for you, by the way.”
Zeke frowned as she brought in a bag from the shop. She dug past what looked to be a new dress and various loose cosmetics a moment, then produced a bottle. “Booze?” he said.
“Um, no? I don’t recall ever having a deal go down between us at your trunk for fake ID purchasing,” she said. “It’s Torani.”
“Tor-what?” Zeke said as he took it.
“Ugh, Christ, Zeke…”
“Oh. Hey, cool,” he said, now recognizing her gift as a flavor syrup, ‘Irish Cream’ to be specific; perfect for throwing into a hot drink. “Kinda like what that coffee shop on Elm has, right.”
“Your coffee’s awesome, but I like my flavorings,” Delilah said, now smiling and tapping the bottle. “This one’s my fave. As long as you get in the habit of keeping it stocked here, I’ll come by to kick your ass in ‘Mario Kart’ more often.”
Zeke chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That alone means I should dump the bottle in the sink, keep you out,” he playfully teased on his way back to the coffee maker. As she chuckled in reply and waited for the mugs Zeke was filling and preparing, he said, “Think it’ll go good with the actual Bailey’s I got in the fridge?”
“Quite,” Delilah replied with an eagerness.
Light on the coffee, cream and sugar it was, allowing both servings to take a heavy portion of both the syrup and a filled-to-the-brim shot of the delicious liqueur. Making things fun and casual would let their conversation come out smoothly enough. He handed Delilah her drink then clicked his against it. “What’s the word, thunderbird… what’s the price-“
“Forty-twice,” Delilah finished the toast, winked then sipped. Zeke stared at her, an eyebrow cocked.
“How’d you know that antique?”
“My grandpa had a bar in his basement, right next to the billiards table. Lotta memories,” Delilah said, adding, “Shit’s fantastic,” about her drink.
“Ah. My uncle owns ‘Tacky’s’, grew up there too-“
“So. Jeremy.”
The sudden switch-of-subjects made Zeke feel dumb a moment, staring back at her. He recovered with a scoff, heading over to the kitchen table. Delilah followed, taking the seat across from him as he lit up and said, “’Figured that was it.”
“Mmhmm. So… you handled it pretty well.”
Could he tell her? It was too early to tell. Propping his head up on his hand, Zeke shrugged. “He’s… okay, I guess,” he replied.
“Yeah. Have to admit, he’d got the type of personality I click with like-“ She snapped her fingers, her smile growing as she went on, “If Casey wasn’t my gay best friend, he’d probably get to that level with me in the future.”
“Congrats. And… wait, what’s that make me?”
“Make you what?”
Zeke scoffed and gave her a look that said, ‘the fuck, dude?’ “Where am I on your ‘gay friend’ graph? Somewhere in the tenth-percentile, lower than that?”
“You’re my bi-bestie,” she replied. “You ARE bi, right?”
“Not… really?”
“Ugh, fine, fine…” The girl made a lone chuckle and waved her hand in a listless motion. “Jeremy would have to fight for the top-spot past Casey AND you. Does that make you feel better?”
Zeke nodded curtly, smiled and took a heavy gulp from his mug. He returned to his slouch, shrugging again. “I can’t say he’d be MY best friend, any time soon. He’s not evil incarnate, but… annoys the shit outta me, all the same.”
“I noticed,” Delilah replied, leaning forward on her hand, perfectly-polished bright red nails drumming against her cheek. “Hit me if you want, but-you really are the poster-boy for the down-home, corn-fed Midwesterner type.”
“Hmph, me? Be serious…”
“I am being serious. It makes you Jer’s polar opposite,” she said. “He’s definitely not humble, and sweet god, he talks more than I do…”
“No shit,” Zeke remarked.
“But that’s probably why he’s a new buddy of mine. I went with them to the photo shop of Casey’s, there, then we dropped by Dunks. Me and him fought over who was gonna pay for the round of coffees and giant honking box of Munchkins we were gonna share, but I won when the serving-boy declared that I’d ‘called it’ first.”
“Again, ‘fuck your diet’, huh?”
“Altogether, yeah. It just translates to an extra fifteen on my elliptical. Worth it.”
Zeke smirked. “So. Now that you’re wedging your way into Jeremy’s ‘inner sanctum’ of best-friend status, should I expect to see you in their wedding party?”
The oddest, most unreadable expression formed on Delilah’s face. “Uh… no? Even if I was asked, I’d say no out of protest.”
“Huh?” Zeke uttered. He sat up straighter and took a slow sip, staring at her over the rim. “Protest? Protesting what?”
“Nothing leaves this kitchen, right?” she asked. As he shrugged and made a lone nod, she said, “I’ve known Casey since Kindergarten. That means that when I meet his ‘boy of choice’, it only takes me about a minute to read how right or wrong the guy is for him. After saying three words to the guy, all I could think was, ‘how the fuck are you and Casey together?’”
This was the last thing Zeke expected; after seeing how chummy they’d gotten in such a short amount of time, Zeke had planned on keeping his ‘fuck no’ vote he’d cast for Jeremy and Casey’s attachment to a dull roar. But now, he felt a few caution signs getting taken down. “’K, was gonna keep my mouth shut but-yeah. Count me in on that opinion.”
“I figured,” Delilah replied. She took a big sip then stood. “Going for a second round.”
Zeke nodded and joined her back at the coffeemaker, this time with Delilah taking a turn at mug-prepping. He let her, all to keep talking, “Kinda weird, though, since you’ve got such glowing things to say about ‘im.”
“Oh, he’s awesome. Love him already. But that doesn’t mean I think he and Casey are star-crossed lovers,” she said. Zeke’s mug was served up first and he took it, letting her go on as she got her own drink together. “Like you, Casey’s the humble type. He thrives in frugality, being-detailed, in a way that doesn’t come through book-learning or taking etiquette courses.”
“Oh god, he told you about that, too, huh? He wouldn’t put the brakes on his blathering on his ‘Denmark boarding school’ experience at Casey’s a couple days ago,” Zeke said.
“Is that when you first met him, or have you known him longer?”
“Oh, no… first time meeting the guy was over dinner, on Sunday night. At Casey’s.”
Delilah turned away from the counter slowly, stirring her drink while giving Zeke a curious gaze. “You went over-for dinner?”
Ut oh. Zeke turned away, trying to shrug it off. “No, was just-dropping off a book Casey had left at my place, kept… forgetting to return it. His mom went on the Zeke-love attack and pretty much shoved me at the dinner table to stay.”
“Ah.” Delilah, nodding slowly, now wore a teasing, knowing grin. “Wonder why…”
“I detect sarcasm?”
“Something you’re good at. Yeah,” she said. “Which means that… I find it obvious that Momma Connor doesn’t really want Jeremy as Casey’s ‘one and only’ as well.”
Zeke sighed and stared at the opposite wall. “K, so… I tell you this, and you don’t spread it around, dig?”
“Tell me… what? And uh, no, I don’t gossip.”
“Hah, sure you don’t…”
Delilah gave him a firm look, even put her hand on her hip with defiance. “I don’t. If you knew how many secrets I’ve held onto and never breathed out to any one curious soul who comes snooping, you’d faint with shock,” she said.
That said, Zeke had to believe her. She may have been not just the ‘Queen of the Herrington High Halls’, but the school paper’s head honcho-but after a quick intake over what dramas stemmed from who that had gone down over his high school career, he could attach none back to Delilah. It made him feel safe enough to head to the living room, shut off the TV and return to his cozy spot on the couch. When Delilah sat with him, he tossed her the edge of his quilt, making her smile.
“It IS a little drafty in here.”
“Want me to kick the heat up a notch?”
“Sure-telling me whatever secrets you’ve got should suffice.”
He sniffed a chuckle through his nose, put the mug up to his lips for a sip then kept it close by his face as he said, “It ain’t just Momma Connor wanting me back. Her ‘Papa Bear’ was desperate enough to hunt me down at my uncle’s bar and beg for me to join him on his mission.”
“Mission… to…?”
“Mission ‘Kick Jeremy to the Curb’,” he admitted. He tried gauging her reaction, that being widening eyes and parting lips. “I know, right?”
“Oh god,” she said. After a moment spent spluttering and thinking, she turned herself to face him fully, even leaning over their bundled-up legs. “But wait, since when is Casey’s dad all about you? No… offense, it’s just you and Casey would talk about how hard he’d been on you when you’d wanna take Casey out and-stuff.”
“The way he put it? He didn’t know how good he’d had it with me,” Zeke replied.
“So he… AND you… you’re both teaming-up to break them up?” Delilah gave Zeke a wary gaze; he sensed disapproval, and knew why. Felt why.
“Ye-e-eah, but… it’s looking… not that doable,” Zeke said. He took another big sip, until three-quarters of the coffee was gone. It was put aside for now in favor of another cigarette. “It’s like-Mr. C. wants me to get them apart, which is already sketchy. Even if I DID plot and scheme them into a break-up, even if Casey never found out about it… I dunno. It doesn’t feel right. And it’s not like him being single again means we give him and me a second go.”
“Well, besides this all sounding, as you said, ‘sketchy’-and it kinda is…” Delilah sank back a little. Zeke watched as she grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. As she lit up, he snorted.
“Since when have you smoked?” he asked.
“Social smoker. Being around you, it’s impossible to stop myself.”
“And of course, they’re girl smokes…” Zeke joked, motioning to the pink colored pack of ‘Misty’ now getting tossed on the coffee table.
“Do you want to be with him?”
Being shifted back for Delilah to finish her question made Zeke’s smile dim, until it fled from his face entirely. Instead of Delilah pressing for an answer through the pause he made, she took a heavy drag and watched him. He rested his side on the back of the couch and braced his forehead on his hand. “You do know why we broke up, right?” he finally asked.
“Yeah, Casey gave me a ‘Cliff Notes’ version. It was enough to make me stay quiet, between the both of you,” she said. “Never got your take on it.”
“No one did. I didn’t bother. In fact… I didn’t even really say much to Casey. Meaning, the night we broke it off.”
“Huh? What-happened? Like I said, Casey only talked about wanting to come out, with you being… scared about it.”
The pause between ‘being’ and ‘scared’ was telling. “Y’mean, I was being a chicken-shit?” Zeke said. The light pink growing on Delilah’s cheeks spoke for her; Zeke made a wry, humorless smirk as he turned to stare at a loose thread of the blanket he was picking at. “That was his favorite word for more than a week before calling it quits. When he first said it, he made it more… teasing. The last time he said it, it was surrounded by spitting and cursing. It was almost like I didn’t know him.”
“I… if I could offer any-thing up as explanation, like-if you don’t know…” Delilah paused again to stretch her cigarette out toward the ashtray, which sat on the table closest to Zeke. The young man smirked, grabbed it and put it between them. Delilah looked skeptical. “This is a nice blanket, looks hand-stitched; sure you wanna risk getting a burn-“
“There are plenty already. Go on,” Zeke said.
After a long breath, Delilah said, “Casey and I had been in the paper’s office, going over assignments for the next week. One of the things we needed a photog for was the winter formal, right after Christmas vaca. The only ones available were Casey and my sophomore camera girl, Johanna, and Jo had asked if she could do anything but the formal. She’d just started dating a junior guy and he’d gotten them tickets. So I’d already assigned her the next two basketball games and told Casey he’d be on the formal cam-crew.” She paused again for another drag, along with a tired sigh. “You know me, I like being ‘the boss’. And up until then, Casey would just nod and go wherever I pointed him. But he suddenly got pissy, telling me, ‘yeah, I’m the safe one to ask for this crap’, all ‘as if I really AM single’, blah, blah… so I spat a few things back, all about how yeah, his position sucked but I wasn’t his emotional punching bag.”
Zeke gazed at the girl with deep interest. He hadn’t been told any backstories, involving their friends; besides Stan letting Zeke know that Casey had been really frustrated over stuff, at the ‘beginning of the end’, Zeke had been in the dark. With his cigarette dying, he grabbed another, lit it on the embers of the old and sank back again. “Go on,” he said.
“He just got real quiet. Really, really quiet. After I moved onto the next subject of which of his pics were his top choices when it came to the ‘Winter Wonderland’ spread on the back page, he just said, ‘I’m sorry, Del,’ all sad and looking embarrassed. I figured he had a lot going on, so-scrapped our one-on-one, told him to get his stuff and that I was taking him out for a milkshake at my fave diner. I’ve always known that when he’s got something sweet to eat, he opens up.”
The memory of Casey’s sweet tooth, something that was Casey’s Achille’s Heel when it came to easing his woes and even healed things between them when they’d have their spats, made Zeke grin a little. “Yep, I used gummy bears to get outta trouble a whole fucking lot,” he said, which made Delilah grin back.
“How he hasn’t rotted out every tooth is a miracle, yeah. So… yeah…” Delilah put her cigarette out and shifted a little. “The second we were sitting at ‘Darcy’s and got our shakes and big plate of waffle fries, he started venting about being in the library that morning, working on a project, when Allison Sweeney walked over. Since all anyone thought all you guys were were ‘best buds’, she started asking about you… as in, if you were dating anyone. He was on the spot and of course, he couldn’t say, ‘yeah me, so step off, bitch.’ So she handed him this note and-well, told him to tell you what she wanted to do with you, if you wanted.”
“I… he never gave me a note-never told me about this at all,” Zeke said, feeling dizzy over what he was hearing. He held his head again, this time lacing his fingers through his bangs to hold on, keep his brain still. “If he had, I dunno… we coulda…”
“What? You would’ve come out, like Casey started begging you about?” Delilah asked.
“I dunno. But… something. It’s all retrospect, now,” Zeke replied. He closed his eyes a moment. “So, lemmee guess; he wanted me off anyone and everyone’s radar, singles-wise?”
“Yeah. That, and…” Delilah took another deep breath, eyes widening a little as if she was exasperated. “…He started asking me what I thought about that dance-how he’d never been to one, it hadn’t mattered to him before, then… bang. It’s suddenly everything he wanted.”
“So we come out AND walk into a metaphorical lion’s den? With crappy top forty music, and everything?”
“Zeke, he’d never been to one. He may have started his school career as the resident, hopeless geek and STAYED that way… but he hadn’t felt hopeless with you.” She wore a meaningful look now, her gaze on him soft and understanding. “He said that… every time he felt scared about coming-out, he’d think about you standing right next to him, making sure nothing happened to him. He’d even think about jumping on the back of anyone who’d try and fight you over it.”
“If that’s what he’d wanted as a part of our relationship, well-too bad,” Zeke said, putting more strength behind the words than he’d intended. It left Delilah quiet; as she reached to her cigarettes for another round, Zeke shook his head and put it back on the couch. “We were-good. Really, fucking, good, Del. He did shit for me, made me feel shit I hadn’t before, and I’d felt like I was doing the same for him.”
“You had, Zeke. Seriously.”
“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t enough for him, right?” Zeke felt restless all of a sudden; the coffee was getting to him, along with the giant amount of things left unsaid, all wanting to come out at once. However safe he was right now, confiding in Delilah, he suddenly wanted out. He stood in a shot and grabbed his mug, muttering, “More coffee, want some?” to the girl as he left.
“I’ll come with,” Delilah said.
Back in the kitchen, Zeke surveyed what was left over in the pot. There was just enough for two, so he gave each mug a refill halfway, leaving room for their additions. He made his with two shots of Bailey’s this time. “Careful, there,” Delilah warned, fighting a small smile on her face.
“Be happy it ain’t just straight up grain alcohol, at this point. This is the night to make a spleef with the last of my stash, I’ll say that,” he replied.
Delilah took her drink and they returned to the living room. As the girl settled back into her spot on the couch, Zeke grabbed the remote and turned the TV on again. It was an ‘I Love Lucy’ marathon, apparently, providing just enough background noise to distract Zeke with. Delilah was more intent on getting back to where they’d left, however, saying, “Casey… he has this ‘thing’, I’m sure you know what I mean… where he wants to have, I dunno, like-landmarks, maybe. In relationships,” she said. “Think of just his camera obsession. He’s not happy in just having the memory of something. He wants to fill photo albums with favorite meals, sunsets, sun-ups, whatever. Things that get taken for granted, he fills display cases with.”
“Yeah, displays… exactly what I didn’t want ‘us’ to be for everyone to gawk and take shots at. I wanted just. Us,” he haltingly replied. “So color me selfish that I didn’t wanna hear about him getting his ass kicked for being a ‘disgusting fag’, or for me to relive the fifth grade.”
“Huh?” Delilah said.
“Not getting into it. Just know that my social-status didn’t always have the ‘cool’ tacked onto ‘loner’.”
“I wasn’t always in line for the throne, myself.”
Zeke looked to her with a furrowed brow. “Fuckin’ liar.”
“No, I’m not. When did you get into Herrington? Had to be after I was in fourth grade, if you don’t remember all the girls in town treating me like a pariah-all because I came from a working-class family that couldn’t afford fancy labels,” she said.
“Had to be, cos’ as far as I can remember, you sniff your nose at drugstore cosmetics aisles and Blue Light Specials,” Zeke said, smirking a little. “What happened? Lucky ticket, bought on a lark?”
“Dad died is what happened. What he couldn’t provide working as a grunt in the factory, he made up for in life insurance policies.”
Zeke felt like throwing his head directly into the edge of his coffee table. He knew enough about Delilah’s losing her dad in the sickeningly early way she had. ‘Wow, don’t YOU look like a prick right now?’ he thought as he rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, babe. I shoulda connected the dots,” he said.
“Don’t feel bad. Seriously,” she said with a somber but warm smile.
“Can’t promise that, but… whatever.” He lifted the blanket over his lap and legs to stretch his arm out. “C’mere, I’m like a furnace, if you need it.”
Delilah looked both skeptical and giddy as she shuffled over. With tentative, ‘we’re just friends’ careful movements, she found a comfortable spot out of Zeke’s hip, side and under the arm he let rest over her shoulders and the couch. “Dang, you ARE warm…” she remarked, eyes set ahead on the TV.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed as he recalled the last person to find shelter in Zeke’s surprisingly and always warm body. The first bitter cold snap of an Ohio winter had rolled in right before Thanksgiving, early enough to have Casey make the mistake of wearing a light jacket on his walk to Zeke’s. While Zeke readied himself properly for their long drive to the mall, Casey had lamented not breaking the seal of the family’s ‘winter storage’ in the hall closet for his favorite thick, wool coat. All of Zeke’s coats, his AND the ones his father had left behind, had been way too big.
“We’ll hop back to your place, get you something more sustainable,” he’d said while rubbing Casey’s shivering arms in his front doorway. Before opening it to set off, Casey had wrapped his arms around Zeke, humming contentedly.
“Just gimmee-somma this for a minute, so it keeps me warm on the way.”
Zeke had done so, gladly, going so far as to rub his hands in wide, brisk motions on Casey’s shoulders, back and lower. The memory of Casey’s soft giggles warming the collar of his shirt and neck made present-time Zeke shift a little. Doing so, he moved against Delilah; he stiffened a little, feeling the side of her breast, hiding underneath an excruciatingly soft sweater brush against his ribs. She shifted along with him, until they both settled in again. This time, Zeke felt another restless rush tingling from his neck to his fingers, shoulders to navel, navel to toes, and everywhere in between. His nervous system was screaming for him to leap from the couch and let off steam with a few hundred jumping jacks. It was either that or what Zeke chose instead, which was turning his head, meeting Delilah’s eyes then lowering his lips to hers.
It didn’t occur to him that there was the possibility of the girl shoving him away and popping him one on the mouth he’d suddenly decided needed hers. But when all she did was stay still and move against him just the littlest bit, he felt encouraged enough to take hold of the side of her face, cradling it with his thumb next to her eye, pinky extended to her chin. With one tilt of his head the kiss deepened, Delilah following his lead as he opened their mouths together. She felt pliant and open, open to anything. Whenever he’d decided to bring his other hand to cup her left breast, he didn’t know-but he was there anyway, dragging his thumb up and around the ridge of what had to be expensive French silk and over a hardening nipple. The soft moan Delilah made tickled Zeke’s lips, tongue, all the way to his throat, exciting him further. Everything changed when suddenly, Delilah reached down between them and placed her hand over his jeans’ button, zip then slid down to rest her fingers over the bulge she’d made for him. Two moments arrived, the first being Zeke wanting nothing more than to tear his jeans open to tug them and the waist of his boxers down, shove Delilah’s skirt up to her neck and tug her underwear to the side to start a wild, wonderful fuck for them both. But in the second moment, Zeke realized, ‘What the FUCK am I doing?’ and stopped everything in unlatching their mouths, letting a shaky breath escape and giving her a shell-shocked stare.
“I’m… so-“
“Yeah. Casey’s out of his mind.” Delilah interrupted. She wore a wide grin; Zeke wondered if she was going to try to get them ‘back to business’, and didn’t know how he’d be able to stop it if she did. Instead, she let everything go with a sigh, turned away and returned to her relaxing against Zeke without a sign that it’d be anything more than two just-friends, and-that’s-it relaxing together. “Don’t say ‘I’m sorry’, Zeke, no need. I’m sorrier for that little idiot who broke up with you.”
Zeke blinked furiously for a handful of moments, not exactly knowing what had just happened. In the end, he figured he didn’t have to know, didn’t have to worry over things going suddenly sour between he and the girl who was still smiling-glowing, even. She’d had herself a nice enough ‘visit’ with Zeke’s sensual side, it seemed, however cut-short it’d been. Still, Zeke lit two cigarettes from his pack and handed her one. “Here, smoke a proper man’s cigarette,” he told her.
“You were wonderful,” she said past rampant chuckles, taking her first drag without issue. They fell silent for a little while, choosing to watch the classic comedienne’s antics on the set. When the episode came to an end and another one began, Delilah sighed and said, “You and Casey’s dad have your thing going… and I’ll have mine. Trust that, ‘k?”
“You’ll have your… what?” Zeke asked, turning to look at the girl through the cloudy haze they were both making.
“My thing. Oh, shh, love this episode…”
Again, there were some things Zeke didn’t, wouldn’t or couldn’t know. Considering the secrets he was currently maintaining, he had to respect someone else’s. He was too comfortable in mind and body right now to press the issue, anyway.
~*~
The possibility of another storm turning Wednesday into a Sunday was squashed out with one strong Canadian push of wind. School was canceled for a good number of towns just south of Herrington, due to their getting the brunt of snow. All Zeke saw waking up and looking through his window was a dusting, barely coating shoveled streets and sidewalks.
But Zeke did have a pleasant surprise a few steps into the school in finding Casey waiting at his locker. As he approached, Casey spotted him, straightened and smiled. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back, you liar,” Zeke said. Casey frowned.
“Liar? How so?”
“You promised me another snow day yesterday, at the park. Yet we’re here. So you’re a liar.”
“Oh, right… if you wanna keep bitching, get channel twenty-five’s number and demand they fire that Chris what’s-his-face, the weather guy. HE’S the rotten, scumbag liar.”
Zeke chuckled, opened his locker then asked, “What brings you to number one-oh-seven?” he said, rapping his locker with his knuckles while his other hand forced his coat into the messy depths.
“Wanted to ask a favor. When I dropped off the film at the shop, Mr. Tillman said he’d have ‘em done by noon… but they’re closing early to go visit their new grandson,” he explained. “Three o’clock. Any way you could run me to the bank then shoot back into downtown to get ‘em?”
“Guess so. No plans after school for me, so sure,” Zeke said. “Though where’s your bank?”
“Polish National, in the Main Street shops plaza.”
Zeke wrinkled his nose. “Kind of a clusterfuck of traveling, outta here, then the bank, the photo place… might not make it in time.”
“With the way you drive?” Casey joked, making Zeke chuckle.
“Well, still. How about we make the trip shorter and go to ‘Shots’ there, I’ll pay then the bank? Not that it matters much to me, getting paid back, but… I remember your rules,” Zeke said.
A soft, sweet expression came on Casey’s face. “I guess. Though you’re sure you can cover it? Three rolls, at least forty if they give me my usual discount…?”
“No sweat. If I don’t catch up with you during the day, just meet me here when they open the cell doors,” Zeke said. Casey nodded.
“Cool. Thanks-for the ride and time-saving option,” he said before backing away, making one last big grin then turning around to head to homeroom. Zeke watched him go, sighing to himself.
‘When was the last time he got into the car for a ride?’ he thought in a wistful voice.
~*~
It was like traveling back in time the moment Casey got into the passenger seat and buckled in. He looked excited and ready to go, like he’d always been every time he and Zeke had set off together, together. The only difference was that they were wearing coats, scarves, hats and gloves, instead of that one beautiful day Casey had slipped his sandals off, crossed his feet out the opened window and sang along to Cyndi Lauper on the radio. He’d hollered “BOYS!” over Cyndi’s “girls”, convincing Zeke that yes, boys just wanna-have-fun.
And here he was now, prattling on about how he dearly hoped the sledding-shots he’d taken came out perfect, instead of his fearing they’d be blurred and unrecognizable. “’Been practicing action shots a lot, but… what I wouldn’t do for a better cam,” he said with a sigh.
“Start hinting now; Valentine’s Day is only a week away,” Zeke said, managing to wink Casey’s way with a teasing grin on his face.
“Hah, nope; remember, my rules forbid it,” Casey replied. “I only let my parents and grandparents get shit I need, at holidays. Only holidays.”
“So if the best camera ever made was suddenly on your doorstep, you’d go David Beckham on it and kick it into traffic?”
“No. I’d bug the shit outta everyone I knew to return it to them. You know I’m good at bugging people.”
‘Damned straight,’ Zeke thought, half-amused, half-remembering-too-well. The last light before the main drag turned green, but the minivan in front of them didn’t share the sentiment. “Jesus, go!” Zeke yelled, honking the horn to get their attention. As the van pulled forward in shocked jerks and turned, Casey began chortling.
“Dude, it just changed. Miss your Adderall this morn, Mr. ADHD-headcase?” he taunted.
“Pssh. I wish. Could barely stay awake, especially in Olsen’s class,” Zeke said. The reminder of how boring today’s history lesson had been made him yawn through the turn. A spot close to the shop was just ahead, so he gunned-it the last handful of yards, stopped and did the usual perfect parallel parking job. “Here,” he said, digging his wallet out, opening it and handing over two twenties. “No change for the meter. If I ain’t here when you get back out, just wait a few secs for me to get around the block. No meter-reader’s caught me yet.”
“Hah, I’ll be quick!” Casey said as he leapt from the car and jogged his way to the shop. Zeke sank back in his seat, opening his window wider to let the smoke from his cigarette escape. He stared at the burning embers at the end, feeling hypnotized.
‘Wanna grab something to eat, go over the pics together?’ he planned on asking. He’d treat, of course, and he hoped Casey accepted. If anything, the boy could leave the tip. That’s how they’d gone about it, back then. ‘Back then’ being just over a month ago, a space of time that felt so short, too close to the ‘now’ things were. Maybe in being alone with Casey, they could really talk; no one wandering around to overhear them as it’d been by those vending machines, no interruptions from friends while sledding…
“Back in record time!” Casey, hopping back in the car carrying a thick plastic bag with the ‘Shot Spot’ logo, said.
“I’ll say. Nice job,” Zeke said. As he’d left the car running, he shoved the shift to ‘drive’, checked the mirrors then set off down the road again. “Is Polish National there on the T.J. Maxx end, or the Dunks?”
“T.J., between them and ‘Radio Shack’,” Casey said. “Where do I put your change?”
“Eh, hold onto it ‘til we get there.”
“Got the receipt with the bills…”
“Uh, I sorta… trust you,” Zeke said, chuckling.
“Lemmee just…”
Zeke watched in the corner of his eye at Casey’s rifling around in the bag. The boy was opening each envelope and taking quick peeks into each one. “How’d they come out?” Zeke said.
“Not gonna fully look ‘til after the bank. You gotta jet, or you wanna sit a while looking through ‘em?” Casey asked.
“’Was actually gonna ask if you wanted to hang out at ‘Darcy’s’ after this, grab… a shake or something and relive ‘days gone by’ with the photos,” Zeke said with a grin.
“Y’mean ‘day gone by’. I promise, I won’t weep with the overwhelming nostalgia.” The two of them shared a chuckle, then Casey shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?”
“Cool,” Zeke said.
It was only a few minutes later when they got past the last intersection before the first entrance to the long array of stores. Zeke was glad they were heading to the first cluster, avoiding the death trap that was the second entranceway that led to the town favorite’s like ‘Applebee’s’ and ‘Forever 21’. It was still busy enough for Zeke to have to scan the area for a space, finally settling on giving Casey some exercise in taking a spot further away than he usually got. No complaints came from the boy, however. “Tell you what; take the receipt, I’ll keep the change and just take forty out, flat. Well, sixty. Might wanna gorge on Darcy’s surf-and-turf platter.”
“I’ll pay?”
“Eh!” Casey scolded before getting out of the car, dropping two packets of pictures on the seat. With a final warning of, “And no peeking!” he shut the door and walked off toward the far off corner of the plaza where his bank sat.
Zeke shut the engine off, not wanting to waste the gas if Casey met up with a mile-long line. He tugged his foot up to cram it between the wheel and his other knee. He was doing his best to not look right to Casey’s seat, where the pictures sat. They lingered over to them anyway, starting with a few darting glances, until he was outright staring at them. The bag sitting on the floor held the third envelope full of pictures. Perhaps Casey had checked to see which rolls were from their day out, and which were going to the papers. It didn’t matter if Zeke knew that wasn’t the case; every shot had been taken in his range. But if Casey came back and caught him sneaking around, he could easily feign interest in wanting to know what was in store for Herrington High in next week’s edition of the rag no one with sense really read.
‘Anyway, he should’ve known better and taken them WITH him,’ Zeke thought, sniggering like a villain as he snatched up the bag, reached inside and took the envelope. He made sure to take a quick check at the faraway bank-oh, the kid had just gotten inside, giving him plenty of time-then opened the flap to drop the pile of pictures inside into his hand.
The mischievous grin snapped away from his face in one shot at what he revealed. There had been a reason for Casey’s dividing up the envelopes-for his making the quick check of what each one contained, to begin with. Zeke wouldn’t have been given permission to spread any of these pictures out for a viewing at the diner. No one but Casey and Jeremy were allowed to see the shots they’d made of each other, and expertly so. Zeke was frozen in his spot, eyes wide and unblinking as he set his stare on the black-and-white image of two boys sharing a kiss. ‘Are… they wearing…’ he thought with a heavy swallow, but in seeing the collar of Casey’s geeky plaid at the bottom of the picture, he had a brief, strange moment of comfort. It escaped him in the next moment when he saw how far the left side of the collar was, almost exposing Casey’s shoulder.
‘Put these back, put them the fuck back!’ his brain screamed at his hands, but they hadn’t heard it. Instead, they pushed that shot to the side to see the next, and the next, the next, each image making the tremor in his lower lip worse and worse. It was as if Casey had taken these for a flipbook project, where each kiss displayed was only a little different than the last. By the sixth picture, the shirt was gone, replaced with an unobstructed view of pale flesh and darker gray circles, where Jeremy’s hand roamed. ‘They’re really pink. Prettiest fucking pink,’ Zeke thought as he stared at the perked flesh, which Jeremy’s thumb was more than likely headed.
It only grew more gut-churning when the angle changed and the two boys were now situated on the bed. Casey didn’t have to worry about his skill at getting ‘action shots’, even if Zeke could tell that they’d moved slow and easy for this set. The one of Jeremy on his back, Casey straddling him and bending down, smiling lips parted open to capture the moment before a lover’s kiss made Zeke’s eyes burn, his mouth go dry and knees start to shake. The sudden, ugly shout inside of him, bellowing, ‘Get your hands off of MY fucking boy!’ was jarring enough for him to quake all over and look up. Seeing the door open made him panic and start shoving everything back into place, but he went still when an older woman and a toddler came out instead. He had enough time to get them back neatly, to give nothing away.
‘Just fucking let it go,’ he thought when he was sure everything was set to rights, no evidence to trace back to him. The envelope was put back into the bag then dropped to the floor; he sat up and immediately lit a cigarette, hoping to calm his nerves. Closing his eyes usually helped get his mind back in order, take away some stimulation. All that managed to do now was let him see fuzzy shadows and muted light that streamed down at him through the windshield. It was a lot like those pictures-black and white, detailed, flashes of flesh he used to know and wanted back, god damn it. He tried imagining shots in one of the other envelopes depicting himself entering the room, each timed shot capturing the violent yanking of Jeremy’s arm to get him off the bed, make one perfectly-placed punch then getting atop Casey’s body to convince him that what he’d done was done, and right. There wasn’t enough film in the world that could truly capture what Zeke wanted to do with him, when those fucking shots were taken and now.
‘Now’ was something that didn’t belong to him, however. The expressions Casey’s camera had captured had once belonged to Zeke, but they were now being made with another. ‘He’s a fucking asshole, a snobby little PRICK who doesn’t deserve him!’ was Zeke’s main thought, but the one that kept sneaking in after it created a hot, angry pit in Zeke’s belly: ‘And Casey seems to love him, doesn’t he?’
It couldn’t be denied. Even if the boy hadn’t come-out like he so wanted to, enough that he broke shit off… well, Zeke wasn’t going to jump into any fights if any of the jocks learned of Jeremy, who he was to Casey, would he? No bodyguard services, though maybe if Casey wanted to brave it, he’d beg Zeke to ‘save him’, even offer pay. That’s what he did with his hobbies; his cash, no one else’s. He didn’t want to owe anyone a thing.
Zeke jerked his brain back to the very idea that brought him to this weird thought pattern: Casey hadn’t come out. What that started to imply made the ugliest, darkest feelings rise up and take Zeke over, just as the passenger side door opened and Casey hopped in.
“Hey, sorry… long line,” Casey said while grabbing the loose envelopes from the seat to put into his lap. He busied himself with the seatbelt again, not catching Zeke’s pale face and blank expression. When he turned to him to hand over the cash he’d gotten, he went still and frowned. “Uh… you okay?”
However difficult it was to do, Zeke broke out of his haze and tried to look at the boy. His head would only turn so much. ‘I’ll see the fucking pictures,’ he thought before clearing his throat and saying, “Yeah. Just-got a call, while you were in there,” he managed to lie. With his hand going to his brow and rubbing it, he said, “I, uh, gotta get to my own bank, pronto. I guess Mom tried sending the usual cash to the main account, but… it didn’t show up in the online-banking list.”
“Oh. Sounds complicated.”
‘No. Fucking. Lie,’ Zeke sniffed in a sharp intake of breath and tried making a sad-sounding groan. “Yeah, gonna be a hassle. So, uh… gonna have to drop you off at home and take care of this shit. Sorry.”
It didn’t occur to him that this was the first real lie he’d ever told Casey; the boy was perceptive enough to tell the differences between reasons and excuses, but Zeke must have sounded convincing enough. “Sorry, man. And yeah, we’ll raincheck it,” he said with a muted smile. He faced forward and grabbed the bag from the floor as Zeke pulled away from the spot and headed to the exit. Noticing how the envelopes he’d taken out were now going back into the bag made Zeke’s hands clench on the wheel. The mood he was in could spell disaster, involving blown reds and obituaries. If he wasn’t so scared of what could happen in his needing to pull over to cry and yell at Casey-for what exactly, he couldn’t quite tell-he would. It’d all come out a garbled, nonsensical mess, making him do his best to focus on the road and keep his foot from turning into a block of lead.
The ride to Casey’s house was short, thankfully. Once at the curb in front of the modest house, Casey undid his seatbelt, opened his door and turned back to Zeke. “Thanks-for all the help,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” Zeke managed to return a weak but visible smile, even if his only thought was, ‘Get the fuck out of my car, please; and take your personal porn collection with you.’
“So seriously, what about tomorrow? After school?” Casey asked. “That’s if you get this bank shit sorted without blitzing yourself into being absent tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Zeke said. “See ya later.”
Casey nodded once, gave Zeke one last happy smile then made his exit. Zeke’s first instinct was to tear away, squealing tires and all, but forced the urge down to get to the end of the street, crawl to the stop sign and make a full stop. A long stop. If anyone was behind him, he’d be deafened by the angry, impatient honking. With gritted teeth, he cut the wheel and took the left turn in a squealing, screeching mess. A man walking his dog a small way’s down jerked and turned to yell at Zeke, going Doppler-Effected with the speed Zeke had already gotten to. Zeke thought an angry, ‘FUCK you!’ at the guy, already a tiny speck in Zeke’s rearview. Instead of blowing the next stop sign and careening left toward home, Zeke roared the GTO to a halt, gave a quick left and right check then chose to go right-to where, he didn’t know.
‘Louisiana. Fuck it,’ he irrationally pondered on. What did he have, here in Herrington? Friends, yes, but he was replaceable enough for them to eventually forget about. After all, Casey strode on with his head held high after ousting Zeke from his social calendar. No fuss, no muss, just boyfriend-number-two mere weeks into being single. Stumbling upon the thought of, ‘Maybe Jeremy had come around before we’d…’ was something too hurtful to make complete in Zeke’s mind. But who really knew? Looking down, he almost shocked himself into a crash in seeing the needle of the speedometer trembling just under the one hundred mark. That was common enough on the highway, but here on this country road… was he even in fucking Herrington anymore? Seeing a patch of worn dirt a few car-lengths wide and long made him put on the brakes, gently enough so as not to skid the car over the guardrail and into the darkening woods beyond.
The car sat rumbling, as if begging for Zeke to keep going; she liked going fast, always sounding the healthiest when taking things light-speed. But in looking toward the trees, seeing the icicles dropping from branches with piles of snow lining each limb, he realized the extra-level of risk he’d so mindlessly taken in the last ten minutes. He choked out a painful gasp of air at the same time as he shut the engine off. That alone made something in him deflate-made him feel everything so much deeper and sharper. He slumped forward with his arms draped over the wheel, all for his head to rest on his wrists and his chokes became sobs, until finally, his eyes overflowed. The moment they did, a fist was formed and brought in a series of hard, steel-crushing punches on the dash.
“FUCK you, you f-fucking…” he yelled to no one. Perhaps he was yelling at Casey, because that’s who he was crying over-and if there was one thing that only stoked his anger into white-hot, flaming rage, it was crying.
Though at his second bellowed howl that sank into a keening wail, Mr. Connor came to mind as someone to get Zeke cursing at. There he’d been, cozy and comfortable in his family-run place of business, and Frank had felt it perfectly fine to barge in on his easygoing night. When even the cops turned a blind eye to Zeke’s meandering around where he wasn’t allowed to be, it felt even more of an intrusion, Frank’s showing up… a ‘man with a plan’ who wanted to rope Zeke in to such a ridiculous, stupid scheme. He’d seen no problem, his putting Zeke into a situation like this, only to reignite the hot, hurtful things Zeke had done so well at putting in his past.
Thinking that put a slow but steady end to the wailing and slamming his fist; his hand stayed clenched on the spot he’d been bashing to hell, but the energy to keep up that way of ‘venting’ slipped away. All energy that had fueled his angry explosion was dying, leaving him with the thought that-with his being here, now, doing what he was doing?
‘You’ve always been good, covering shit up,’ he allowed himself to think and take as truth. That’s what he was doing right now, still crying and having each breath go in and out a shuddering sigh; he was telling the truth, even if it was only to himself. He started to read each tear escaping as singular, personal truths, which he was too scared to voice at the moment. But he still translated them, best he could, until a calm settled in enough for him to unfold himself away from the wheel, sit up and take even breaths.
He’d give himself a few minutes to make sure he was able to turn back around, obey traffic signs and keep the needle at forty, at the most. Tonight’s plan would be simple, consisting of throwing a TV dinner in the microwave, another full pot of coffee put together than a few hours’ worth of TV watching. He’d wait until after the Connors’ usual dinner time to text Mr. Connor, letting him know that it was clear, by everything he’d seen in just a few days, Casey wanted Jeremy. Not Zeke. The man was just going to have to deal with it, and leave Zeke out of it from now on. ‘It’s nice, when you’re cared about,’ Zeke thought as he brought the GTO’s engine to life and got back on the road to head home. Being with Casey in the time he had-it hadn’t all been a lie. If it had, Zeke would have kept up with the plan, kept fighting for someone who, by all evidence, had ended up not caring for Zeke enough to hang on. But Zeke knew he was worth getting cared-for, treated right. It was the one thing he’d give Casey thanks for, if anything.