Eiiiight
Title: So You Think You Can Tell (Pt. 8)
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey's skipping and 'soiree'-ing.
Casey had waited at the edge of the parking lot for a reason. The thanks he needed to give was something he couldn’t have done over the phone, and trying to yell it over the crowds in the hallway would have been even worse. ‘Remember not having to take that damned bus?’ he thought as he gazed out at the lot’s entrance, where he hoped the GTO would come flying through soon. His bus usually got to school before Zeke did, due to stops at Dunks or… just having his own ride and time to get there when he got there. It was a freedom Casey had only gotten a taste of, getting picked up at home by Zeke becoming their routine. But owning a car, your own car, was so much more different.
He’d been so lost in thought that the loud roaring engine of Zeke’s revving away turned expectation into surprise, Casey jumping a little at the sound. While it’d been a good, long time since Zeke had arrived in the rowdy way he’d done for years, he still made an entrance. Heads turned, eyes rolled and girls made devious smiles, as always. The last item made Casey grit his teeth as he stood and made his way over to where Zeke had parked.
“Hey,” he said once a few feet away; Zeke turned from shutting his door to face him.
“Hey. S’up?” he said. Per usual, he made up his last cigarette before trudging off into the building; leaning on the car, he shrugged his shoulders up tight against his ears. “Couldn’t find my hat this morning, so of course it’s like… ten-the-fuck-below.”
“It’s… winter.”
“The Bayou’s looking better and better each day, lemmee t-tell ya…” Zeke winced and shrunk into himself more at the cold wind rushing through. “G-God d-damn… maybe it’s ‘fuck-it’ time like, today. With Mardi Gras coming and-“
“I loved the gift,” Casey blurted out, barely feeling the cold himself. He still carried the warmth he’d gotten from that battered, brown bag, however uncomfortable it made him. He felt almost too hot wearing his wool hat and scarf.
“Yeah? Good. Then… I’m glad we went on that excavation project,” Zeke replied. He looked to be fighting on a smile, the corners of his lips twitching. Whether it was trying to save face or his face was starting to freeze the very blood fighting to feed his brain, Casey wasn’t sure.
“It was real special. Like, hah…” It was Casey’s turn to try and look casual, but in saying, “I even cried,” he knew he’d revealed too much. The softening expression on Zeke’s face and slow, blinking eyes said as much.
“Why? Didn’t g-get it done for you to c-“ he went to say, but the next wind was harder and colder than the last. “’K, the FUCK am I n-not in t-th-the C-CAR for…”
Casey watched him hop over to the driver’s side door, return to his seat then shut himself in. All Casey could do was stare, until the engine came on and Zeke rolled the window down. “The fuck are Y-YOU standing there for?? Get the hell in!” he yelled.
Casey shook the cobwebs from his head, nodded then rushed over to the passenger side. He just escaped the next blast of frozen air coming through with a flick of his wrist, pulling his door closed. “Thanks,” he said.
“Not like I was gonna put the window down a notch and talk to you through it. I’m not that much of a cruel bastard,” Zeke replied. He turned the volume knob of the radio up, not to ear-shattering levels but just enough to hear the local alternative rock station’s playing Nine Inch Nail’s ‘Head Like a Hole’. He sank back against the seat, head tilted up with the tip of his cigarette mere inches from the ceiling. “Got, like… fifteen minutes of sleep last night.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Casey said.
“Dunno what the fuck kept me watching that string of infomercials. I coulda changed the channel, or-fuck, maybe gone to bed. Novel idea. But…” He was interrupted by a heavy yawn. “…Chr-r-ist, I downed too much damned coffee to be yawning… anyway. You ever seen that infomercial for ‘Slam-Man’?”
Casey felt confused. ‘Since when does he ramble like this?’ he thought. “No?” he finally answered.
“You gotta. It’s the worst informercial I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something. But as most of that shit goes, the worse it is, the funnier it gets. It’s just this-mannequin-type of thing that you punch and stuff. They call it a ‘workout’, when it should be called ‘pretty fucking disturbing’, if you ask-“
“Why-are you talking about this?” Casey asked. Didn’t he realize there were more pressing matters at hand, none of it having anything to do with what insomniacs were forced to watch? Zeke turned to face him, sucked in a drag then plucked it from his lips.
“I’m most talkative the less sleep I get, really.” Zeke shrugged and yawned again. Looking annoyed, he turned to face the school. “Like anything today’s NOT gonna put me to sleep. How in fuck am I gonna make it to two…”
“It’s a half-day, remember?” Casey asked. Zeke turned back to him, brows knitted in tight and lips parted.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, inservice day. Half-day. Thought outta everyone, you’d be on top of that stuff,” Casey said.
“I missed a memo, cos’… I wouldn’t have bothered coming for a stupid half-day,” he said with sleepy-scorn. He rubbed his face with his hand then let it drop in a slap on the wheel. “I’ve got a pretty good attendance record nowadays.”
“Zeke… you shouldn’t. C’mon, you’re already here, anyway.”
“Mmm. Nah.”
Casey jolted when Zeke turned the key to the last slot, kicking the entire car into go-go-gear. “I… you’re gonna bail?” Casey said, his hand going to the door handle. He stayed in his spot for the moment, however, giving Zeke a perplexed expression. “I’d-wanted to chat a bit, talk about… stuff.”
“Okay. So talk,” Zeke said. Before Casey could take him up on that, he put the car in reverse, threw himself around to scan the area and began backing out.
“Wait! Zeke, no, I can’t-“
“After the shit your dad pulled, I bet he’d let this one slide. He’d even write-up an excuse to keep you outta detention.” Zeke backed out all the way, threw the gear to ‘D’ and gave Casey a small but very devious grin. “C’mon. We’re both too fucking tired for this shit. We can head out, grab something to eat then if you have to, crash at my place for a while.”
“I…I…” Casey stammered and stared at Zeke’s fist which was clenched tight on the shift. If he said, ‘no, it’s a school day, I won’t let you tarnish my record!’ Zeke would roll his eyes and shove him out of the car himself. But instead, Casey sank back down into the seat, still keeping a wary gaze on the deviant. “Just… go, then.”
Zeke’s grin went from miniscule to atomic as he hit the gas and sent them flying toward the exit. “FI-nally, after how many times I’d suggested we DO this over the last year?” Zeke howled out, obviously overjoyed.
“What’s the deal wanting me to go along with this crap any-WATCH it!” Casey yelled at the last second when he saw a squirrel jump into the road, directly in their path. The terrified animal skittered away in the nick of time, rushing to the same side he’d hopped from and up into a tree.
“Shit, Casey… save that kinda screaming for strollers and nuns,” Zeke said with a hearty chuckle. “Ma-a-an…”
“I LIKE squirrels,” Casey spat, even moped as he did his best to relax in his seat. Zeke slowing down and putting the brakes on at the next intersection of a four-way stop helped.
“So where do we get some breakfast? Diner?” Zeke asked, then again yawned the hardest he’d done thus far. Snapping his eyes open and closed a few times, he grunted and moved them along, cutting his speed down as they went. “Drive-thru, taken to my place. Not getting outta the car ‘til then.”
“Yeah, good id…” Casey went to say before he finally caved to his own hard yawn.
~*~
It’d been a long time since Casey had gotten to McDonald’s before their breakfast menu was taken down. Finding breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns instead of burgers and fries displayed in the drive-thru had been a pleasant surprise, even making him say, “Oh, yeah… ain’t even eight o’clock yet,” under his breath as Zeke gave his order.
Casey had almost protested Zeke’s, “I’m buying, whattaya want?” offering, but was glad he hadn’t. Having dropped the last of his cash at the diner for tip, he would’ve been embarrassed in having to ask Zeke if it was okay to change his mind while flashing his empty wallet at him. Not that Zeke would’ve said, “sucks to be you, I guess,” and eaten in front of him, but he’d make a point to mention it every time they went out to eat together.
Just Casey’s thinking he was getting back into a routine with Zeke--every time they went out said it all-even through a simple friendship was both wonderful and scary. More anxiety threatened him when they pulled into Zeke’s driveway, letting him wonder how things would go once they were in Zeke’s house. Going by what Zeke had said, his playing-hooky was going to involve their meals, more brainless daytime TV, informercials or not, then a nap. Even if Casey was just as tired and ready for a few winks himself, Zeke didn’t seem to find anything odd about Casey having those winks here, in the same house-if not the same room. Bed.
‘Wonder what I’m gonna wear tonight to that swa…ree,’ Casey tried switching subjects in his brain. As Zeke rushed up the stairs to get the door open, Casey followed, mentally going through what was back home in his closet when it came to his Friday night plans. Now inside, he put their bags down on the hall’s side table, removed his coat and said, “Thanks for breakfast. It’s been forever since I’ve made it to McD’s for it.”
“My craving it usually starts the night before, luckily. Let’s me force down sleep and set my clock, even on a Sunday,” Zeke replied then motioned to the kitchen doorway. “Should I make a pot?”
“Um, you got a coffee with your meal, remember?”
“Yeah, but you got juice. But… never mind.”
Casey nodded and smiled as he sat down to start unwrapping his food. “Yeah, it’s either I get sucky sleep so I drink coffee then feel blitzed by noon, or just go the hell to bed,” he said.
“My tolerance is too high, I guess. ‘Wonder if coke would do the trick…” Zeke said. The jerking of his head to give Zeke a wide-eyed, stern expression almost broke Casey’s neck.
“Don’t even joke,” Casey said with heavy warning.
“Well, I was… geez, fine, I’d never. Promise,” Zeke said.
“Good.” Casey left it there, choosing instead to sink his teeth into his bacon, egg and cheese on his favorite biscuit. The taste made a rumbling moan tickle deep in his chest and throat. “Thaf gurd,” he said with his mouth full.
“I mo, wite?”
Manners were useless now. Both of them gobbled down their food, Casey wishing he’d gotten a second sandwich like Zeke had. He’d chosen the sausage and egg on a McMuffin first, heading quickly to his number two of bacon and egg, again on his McMuffin favorite. “Wah mon’ woo wike weez?”
“Huwah?”
Casey rolled his eyes and fought to swallow, the last huge bite of the sandwich needing a few punches to the chest in order to get into Casey’s gullet. Sighing, Casey smiled and asked, “Why don’t you like cheese?” again.
Zeke shrugged, chewed and swallowed himself before replying, “I do. Just not on breakfast sandwiches. Dunno why.”
“Mmm,” Casey said, shrugging it off. He now reached for his favorite-favorite from the fast food breakfast menu, that being the hashbrown. It was still somehow hot enough for Casey to blow on. “These ones are the best. I could eat fifty of ‘em in one sitting,” he said.
“Yeah, they’re good. You shoulda gotten two of ‘em, or two of both sandwich and hash,” Zeke said.
“Wasn’t gonna rape your wallet like that,” Casey replied.
“Still…” Zeke polished off the second sandwich then reached back into his bag. Since he’d gotten the sandwiches as two value-meals, he had two hashbrowns to go with them. Both were brought out; one stayed on the flattened bag, while Zeke sat back against the couch eating the other. “Have at it,” he told Casey while motioning to the table.
“What, the hashbrown? You don’t want it?” Casey asked.
“Eh, the two sammiches did enough for me. One suits me fine, right now.”
Casey beamed and reached over to take it. “Thanks, again,” he said.
“No bigs.” Zeke finished off the last of his meal in a flash then grabbed a few napkins to wipe the grease from his fingers. “So, you… liked it, huh?”
“Breakfast? Duh, of course-“
“No, no. The gift. Belated birthday, that.”
Casey slowed his chewing as he looked back at Zeke, who was also gazing his way. He didn’t look avoidant or anxious now, the odd rambling from before replaced with a calm expression. “Yeah. It was special. Special and… sad,” he softly replied.
“Sad, cos’…”
“Why ask? You know,” Casey said. He took the last bite of the hashbrown, grabbed the juice he’d forgotten all about and uncapped it for a sip. With Zeke staying quiet, Casey figured it was his turn to keep talking, as he’d let Zeke have the floor two nights before. He turned to face Zeke, one knee up, the other stretched to the middle of the couch. “Even if I’d acted like you were a jerk, near the end, there… you were always sweet. Said sweet things, and meant them. I always felt that. So, getting that gift more than a month after I was supposed to… I just… feel sad about it.”
“I know. I’d thought, back then, about just giving it to you. However… romantic, I guess, it was when I’d gotten it, wasn’t like it had to be attached to our ‘boyfriend stage’, entirely anyway,” Zeke said. “But it didn’t feel right. So it just got lost in the chaos of my locker.”
“Yeah.” Casey gazed down at his knee now, studying the light and dark blues mixing together in the denim. “It was more than thoughtful. I worried that you’d blown a wad, getting some super-expensive thing, necklace, whatever. If it’d been some… diamond-encrusted deal, I would’ve ran to your place to give it back, demanding you sell it online or some shit. But what it was, you can’t… sell.”
Zeke remained silent, only nodding along as he too stared off into space, slumping down most of the way against the stacks of pillows behind him. Casey sucked his lips in and tried thinking on what to say. Nothing to make things ‘just right’, never mind perfect came to mind. Was there anything that’d suddenly make everything right again? He kept scanning his brain, hard and long enough to feel a headache coming on. When he lifted his head halfway and blurted, “I love you,” out of nowhere, he panicked.
‘Ohgodohgodohgod, whatdidIjustdo…’ the words mashed together in his mind, rushing by in terror. “I’m so…” Casey snapped his eyes up to apologize, he’d keep apologizing… or he WOULD have, if the person he’d spoken to had heard him. Instead, Zeke’s eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in slow swells, letting Casey know that he’d dodged a mighty deadly bullet. He deflated against the cushions like a popped balloon, the stress and anxiety that had rushed into him at light-speed now exiting the same way. It left him gazing at the other side of the couch through half-lidded eyes.
Would he have gotten angry? Yelled? Cried? Reached over? Pulled Casey against him? Kissed him, held him, grabbed at him, molested him the way only Zeke had? However exhausted he’d become, no matter how much that fatigue was seriously messing with Casey’s mind in imagining anything past ‘buddies’ between he and the sleeping, gorgeous boy before him… ‘Jeremy, remember?’
His next thought of, ‘He’d never know, unless you told him,’ was scary enough to have Casey close his eyes, choosing sleep over making everything worse.
~*~
Whatever had made Pauly Shore enter the ‘Dance-Off’ competition Casey had also signed-up for was a mystery. Thing was, the guy was surprisingly skilled, especially when it came to the Robot Dance. The crowd around them cheered as he made jerky, robotic steps from side-to-side, worrying Casey. If he wanted to graduate high school and get into a good college, that trophy needed to be put into his hands. He scanned the judges’ faces; the smiles Mrs. Olsen, the human-sized squirrel going by the name of ‘Road-Killz’ and Principal Drake wore weren’t encouraging.
”Why is a squirrel serving as a dance-off judge?” Casey asked himself out loud before moving onto his next question of, ”Why do I need to win a dance-off to graduate? That doesn’t make any…”
“S-s-sen…se…”
“Case?”
Zeke’s voice now intertwined with the horror of watching the judges rushing to Pauly with the trophy. Casey opened his mouth to scream in protest, just as his eyes began opening in feeling his shoulder being lightly shaken.
“Hey… wake up,” the blurry, hazy version of Zeke said. Casey blinked profusely, still wondering what was going on.
“I… gotta graduate. D… Dancing…”
“Huh?”
Casey swallowed and went to make more desperate pleas for a second chance at his shot for a diploma, but stilled when the world around him came into focus. Zeke stood off to the side, staring down at him with a perplexed expression. “You okay?”
“I… d-damn, I was… dreaming,” Casey said. He sank against the small decorative pillow he’d fallen asleep on. Despite its tough texture, he felt too relieved to care. A smile came on his face. “I had to win a dance contest against Pauly Shore, for of all things… m-my friggin’ diploma.”
“Oh. Oh, I’ve had those weird-as-fuck school dreams, too,” Zeke said past rampant chuckling. Casey turned his head up while trying to get himself up onto an elbow. He saw a mug going to Zeke’s lips and raised his eyebrows.
“Coffee?”
“Right there on the table, waiting for you.”
Casey made a drowsy smile as he turned and found the prepared drink sitting next to Zeke’s ashtray. “Aw, thanks…” A yawn made him go still a moment; as his eyes reopened, they fell on the cable box above the TV. The flashing eights made him sit up in a panic. “Shit!” he suddenly hollered, loud enough to make Zeke jump.
“Fuck, what??”
“What… what time’s it…?” Casey asked in a rush. He scanned the room for a clock, but Zeke raised his wrist up for a look at his watch.
“Ain’t even two yet. Why, you gotta get home at a certain time?”
“Oh. Okay, good. And no. Well… yeah.” Casey rubbed his face with both hands, trying to clear the groggy, foggy mess still lingering in his head. “Got time, but… Jeremy’s picking me up at six. ‘Guess a friend of his is having this swah-ree.”
Zeke sat down on the other side of the couch, giving Casey a questioning stare. “A what?”
“Yeah, knew I wasn’t pronouncing it right. It’s-French, for ‘party’ or whatever.”
“Ah, a soi-ree,” Zeke said with a growing smile.
“Which means ‘fancy’. So… I’ll have to get going in a bit to get fancy, I guess.” Casey smiled and grabbed the mug Zeke had given him. The first sip revealed that Zeke hadn’t forgotten how he liked it; light cream, extra sugar. “S’good. Thanks.”
“No prob. It should help… that and the sleep you got,” Zeke replied. “You’ll be able to swah-ree the night away.”
“Oh, stop. Sorry I’m such a low-class hick,” Casey said, chortling.
“Hey, I took French my freshman year, that’s the only reason I know any. The conjugations fried my brain, so… just got the basics,” Zeke said. A few moments passed with the two of them sipping quietly; Casey started to feel the energy trickling in, from both the coffee and what a few hours of sleep provided. It gave him hope that he would be ready for a good time out tonight, as Zeke had said. But the very idea of how it was more than a simple ‘party’, going by flamboyant-French descriptors and the kind of scenery and amenities…
‘You gotta give it a shot,’ His reasonable side told him. Jeremy had spent his snow-day off with Casey and his friends, after all. He’d let Casey know that he’d had fun with them all, even Zeke. “I can see why you went for him,” he’d said when Zeke had taken a bathroom break, the night they’d all had dinner. In retrospect, knowing how Zeke and his father had been scheming, Casey had to smirk to himself in the here and now. He wasn’t mad about it anymore; in fact, it’d backfired on them in a way, and not just in Casey’s finding out. Casey knew that if Jeremy really had been a jerk, Zeke would have seen it enough to have stepped in and done something about it, past whatever crazy schemes going on. But Jeremy wasn’t that jerk, and it was enough for everyone to give up and back off.
But while Jeremy had ‘passed the ex-test’ enough, another thought crept into his mind. As Zeke grunted, grabbed the remote and asked, “You like the crazy shit on ‘Jenny Jones’?”, Casey shrugged and stared into his coffee as his brain whirred away. It was sending him back to that morning, when he’d almost made a huge, irrecoverable mess of things in blurting I love you to Zeke. He hadn’t planned it, or even knew the ‘why’ behind his saying it, altogether. It’d just come out of him from nowhere, inspired by something he still couldn’t explain. He looked up to the boy, who was staring ahead at the TV while enjoying a smoke. He was his usual slouching, relaxed self, taking in the talk show topic of the day: ‘Big & Bad Teen Girls Meet Their Match!’ Casey glanced to the TV and snorted.
“Boot camp, huh?” he remarked, nodding to the three scantily-clad teenage girls getting shouted at by a huge military guy. While two laughed and tried evading him, the smallest, thinnest girl Casey had ever seen was shouting right back into the officer’s face.
“Dad almost sent me to one, actually. Back when I was a freshman,” Zeke said.
“Yeah? Why?”
“Hah, gotta ask? He couldn’t handle my shit.”
“Ah,” Casey said. He smiled, trying to remember when he’d been a freshman himself, and when he’d first crossed paths with the tall, broody delinquent Zeke. He would’ve been a sophomore, obviously having escaped the threat of his father’s. “You would’ve owned every one of those guys.”
“Who? Wait, boot camp?” Zeke said. He glanced away from the TV to give Casey an odd expression. “I would’ve folded into a crying, wimpy mess, really. My asshole dad, I could manipulate. These guys?” He waved to the TV, which showed the girls being shuffled-off backstage to get into fatigues. The girl who’d been yelling back was snarling and sneering the officer’s way, who was now joined by an equally tough-looking, unyielding woman officer. “The skinny chick’s gonna crack first. Ten bucks,” Zeke said.
“Hah, you’re on,” Casey said, even reaching over to shake on it.
~*~
“I’ll drop by the bank tomorrow. I gotta anyway, if I wanna take advantage of that sale at Shot-Spot…”
“How many times do I gotta tell you I ain’t taking your stupid money?”
Casey looked up from sorting through his bag to Zeke, who was shaking his head and keeping his eyes on the road. “We shook on that shit. I take it seriously,” he said.
“Take it as a lesson. The louder some supposed bad-ass little girl yells, the more she’s gonna cry later,” Zeke replied.
“I guess. But-fine. I’ll compromise. Next time we end up in drive-thru, the McD’s is on me. ‘K?” Casey told him.
“Oh, whatever. So stubborn. I should know better than to make bets with someone with your ethical approach,” he replied. He shot Casey a smirk as he turned onto his street. “Let’s call it the Dunks run we’ll take on the way to school Monday.”
“Oh. You wanna start carting my ass around again, huh?”
“Why not? We’re cool. We have been.”
“Yeah.” Casey sighed as they reached his house. In a way, he wished he hadn’t had the party-plans with Jeremy, as dropping off his things and rushing back out to the GTO sounded better. Zeke must have noticed his pause and vacant stare out toward the house.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just… wondering what the fuck I gotta wear to this thing tonight,” Casey replied. “It’s gotta be good enough to not make Jeremy force me into HIS closets.”
“This again, huh?” Zeke wryly said. “You got my opinion on that. Go as you are.”
“When it’s called a ‘soiree’?”
Zeke rolled his eyes. “Who are all these pals of Jer’s gonna meet tonight? Jeremy’s new guy, Casey Connor, who doesn’t need to be slathered in designer wear to be liked.”
“I’m not saying… ugh…” Casey chuckled and looked to Zeke, who was giving him a cool stare back. “I know, ‘k? Like your gift said, ‘stay young and beautiful’.”
Zeke’s expression sobered a little; he turned away and shrugged. “It’s good advice,” he said.
“I agree.” Casey grabbed Zeke’s arm and squeezed it. “Hope you take it yourself.”
“What, my own advice? Hah, never.”
“Fi-i-ine then, take it from me.” Casey opened his door and let one foot out, keeping the other still for a moment to say, “You stay young and beautiful too, Zeke.”
The smile Zeke made was warm and sweet. “We’ll see. Now get out, you’re letting the fucking freeze in,” he said.
Chuckling, Casey took his leave, giving Zeke a quick wave before rushing to the house. As he listened to the car’s engine roar its way down the road, he got inside, threw off his winter wear and sighed. ‘Time to get beautiful, I guess,’ he said as he made his way upstairs to his room.
~*~
Though Casey had been showered, dressed and preened a whole hour before Jeremy was to collect him, he was still fussing over how he looked. In between loading zones in Everquest, the darkened screen gave him a quick look at his reflection. Each time he’d lean in, move a stray hair back into its gelled position then sink back with a groan. It didn’t matter if he knew he looked good. It was the idea that he might not look good enough.
“Casey! Jeremy’s here!” his mother called from downstairs.
As he heard muted conversation between her and Jeremy, Casey sighed, shut the game down and yelled, “C’mon up! I gotta…” He went to his mirror and gave himself yet another close inspection. Past his nervousness, he did like having someone to look good for. Footfalls sounded off from the stairs, until Jeremy rapped lightly on the cracked-open door.
“Knock, knock!”
Casey smiled and turned to the boy entering the room. Before he could reply, he took in Jeremy’s own appearance. “Wow. You… got really decked-out,” he said of the black, pressed slacks and black button-up sweater, the first three buttons undone to reveal the forest green silk shirt underneath. His black wing-tips looked like they’d been perfectly polished, gleaming in the low light of the room.
“Thanks. As for you…” Jeremy smiled and let his eyes roam over Casey. Casey smiled back; he had been highly-selective and choosy over what clothes to wear, which had to show. Though nothing he wore required his parents to sign over a month’s worth of paychecks for him to have, Casey had dug all the way to the way back of his closet for these choices. His grandparents all but lived at Steiger’s and it showed in the gifts they gave him. Being good clothes, he rarely wore them. But the newest pair of dark denim jeans was joined by his nicest midnight-blue button-down, meshy black cardigan and rarely-worn black dress shoes. Finally, after what seemed like more than an hour, Jeremy sighed, grinned and said, “…I came prepared.”
Casey frowned as he dumped his bulging messenger bag on Casey’s bed, opened it and began taking bagged items out. “What’s… that?” he asked.
“My way of saying ‘no excuses, boy.’ Instead of wanting to make a pit-stop at my place to throw my closets at you, I brought some of that closet with me.” Jeremy emptied one of the two bags onto the comforter, picked it up and held it up to show Casey. “First-off, jeans are a no-no. Those are nicer than your usual, but these?”
Casey blinked profusely at the sight of brown slacks, looking perfectly ironed despite them coming out of Jeremy’s stuffed-up bag. “Uh… might not fit, you’re a little bigger and taller than I am…” he said, but Jeremy clucked his tongue.
“I am now, but these are from my scrawnier days. Go on.”
“I…” Casey started, shaking his head and looking back down at himself. Hadn’t he done a good enough job on his own? Why was he being harangued into changing? He looked up and meant to start protesting, when an odd thought came to mind…
‘Remember those other times you had to have everything ‘your way’?’ As Jeremy sighed, laid the slacks out and talked about what else he was going to replace Casey’s chosen outfit with, Casey was deep in thought. He was taken back to the other night when he’d kept his mouth shut and let Zeke-finally-get things out in the open. The memories raced by and went into other things; the belated birthday gift he’d wished he’d stuck around for, Zeke’s chill nature around him to begin with, whatever else reminded Casey how easy it was, ending at regret. He didn’t want Jeremy to be a part of those regrets, did he? What would be so wrong, letting the young man dress him up a bit?
“You can’t say no to this, and if you try? I’m driving you to a nut-ward instead of an awesome party,” Jeremy was saying, making Casey look over at him again. The two pieces he held, one a long-sleeved, black and sleek jersey with a small collar at the neck and chocolate-brown, warm-looking cardigan were indeed very nice. Nowhere near Casey’s style; it was TOO stylish, but plainer than he liked. It was sure to be a showoff-piece in what name was tacked onto the tags on the inside.
“I… guess. I can try,” he haltingly replied.
“Try, nothing. I spent more time on picking your outfit than mine!” Jeremy said with a chuckle. He then made a sweet, pleading smile, eyebrows raised a little as he said, “Please? I’d love to see you in this stuff. Plus, nothing comes home with me, y’know. It’s all going into YOUR closets, instead.”
Casey tried smiling back as he shrugged, went over and took the offerings. “I’ll take them into the bathroom, see how they look,” he said.
“Aw, not here…?” Jeremy pouted as he raked Casey’s body with his eyes.
“Hah, with my mom downstairs? Bad idea, boy,” he said.
“A’right, fine. But don’t take them off until I see you!”
“I won’t,” Casey said. Before he could reach the door, Jeremy took his arm and reeled him in close to take a light kiss from Casey’s lips.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said with a wink.
Casey sighed. “Yeah, yeah, rude… thank you,” he said.
~*~
Though the small, fabric tag reading ‘Gucci’, sewn into the sweater’s collar was soft and barely noticeable as Casey wore it, he kept scratching at the back of his neck anyway. It felt irritated for some reason. While Jeremy switched CDs in his player, leaving Smashing Pumpkins behind in favor of some indie-band Casey didn’t know, the radio played the end of ‘Free Bird’.
“Shit, green… that light was fast,” Jeremy said as he let his CD case rest on the console to drive through the intersection. “Throw it in… unless you wanna choose something else.”
“Radio’s fine,” Casey replied.
“I’m not that into radio, myself, but… another pothole, damn…” The young man cut the wheel quick but carefully, avoiding a large chunk of missing pavement. “With how my dad bitches about taking a hit tax-wise around here, these roads should be paved with platinum.”
Casey chuckled a little, shifted in his seat and looked through his window at the passing scenery. Having passed through the busier city of Kent along with its University, they were now heading into the deep suburbs. Stow was a nice town, full of golf courses and houses that seemed to grow larger the deeper you drove into it. Casey had traveled through the area to get to parks and nature preserves, with both Zeke and Jeremy, by this point. The former of the two would make mention of friends he had here, along with tales of ‘wild times’ they’d shared. Going by his descriptions, Casey had nothing to worry about. ‘They’re just a bunch of teenagers, like me,’ he thought as Jeremy turned the Audi right.
“Almost there,” he said. “I can’t wait for you to see this place. It was huge when they got it, but after a few years his parents sent the place sprawling. Their entire basement is one giant game-room, SO cool…”
“Sounds cool,” Casey said, though he was still apprehensive. He looked down at his hands which were tucked tight between his knees. Why was Jeremy so keen on Casey wearing brown? It didn’t seem right, look right. Nonetheless, Casey had been assured that he’d match the fine décor and other well-dressed partygoers. Something soft and familiar tickled his ears then; lightly-strummed guitar, alone and lost in muted radio crackle. Casey looked to the stereo, seeing the bright blue numbers 101.3. ‘Into the Floyd…’ he thought absently as ‘Wish You Were Here’ streamed through. His skin went tight and goose-fleshed when the intro passed and the lyrics arrived. He mouthed along without realizing.
So… so you think you can tell… heaven from--
Casey almost jumped in Jeremy’s sudden slapping at the radio buttons, groaning with distaste as he did. “Ugh, can’t stand that band… so overplayed,” he said, chuckling as he did. “Seriously, they play the same three or four songs from those hacks, every day…”
Casey’s lips parted to say, ‘They’re my favorite, actually,’ but stopped. This was Jeremy’s car, after all. No passenger could take over the music end of the rides they’d take, not without permission. A pop song Casey didn’t recognize played now, even if he’d decided to take the last two minutes of the trip with the song continuing on in his head. He felt a pang of guilt; again, this was Jeremy’s car, with Jeremy there next to him. Thinking of how easily he’d swayed to that song, soft but strong hands at his waist and back as they’d turned together, how warm the words, ”hear this song every time you leave,” had been breathed into his ear…
“Here we are!” Jeremy announced, now pulling into a long, sloping driveway. Casey fought his attention back into the present, meeting another awe-filled sight. The large, sprawling-indeed mansion seemed to be miles above them, aloft in the heavens as the Audi climbed up the hill leading to it. Once on even ground, Casey stared out over the wide, white-covered area that served as a lawn more than likely, lined by black iron ornate fencing. A large dark circle interrupted the snow, making him frown and ask, “Is that a pond?”
Jeremy glanced over and chuckled. “That’s a helipad.”
“A… what?”
“It’s for when Thomas’ dad’s business partners fly in from Montreal, or wherever else. Instead of taking a cab from the airport, Mr. Eton lets them make use of his helicopter.”
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year-after-year… the words somehow managed to sing past Casey’s growing apprehension, as if he needed something familiar to hold onto. But the soft, crooned comfort playing in his mind snapped away the moment Jeremy parked, shut the engine off and looked to Casey with a smile.
“You look nervous,” he remarked.
Casey looked away from the main entrance of the place to Jeremy. “Can’t… blame me, can ya?” he asked, adding a nervous chuckle at the end.
“Babe. After giving the glowing reports I have to these guys? They already love ya,” Jeremy said. He gave Casey’s hand a squeeze, said, “C’mon,” and got out, Casey somehow managing to also exit the car and join his side.
The doorway they walked toward made him wonder if it usually had guards framing it, looking as regal as it did. At the very least, it gave Casey the frame of mind as to what to expect in going past them. He couldn’t help but gaze around along the walls, its dark brick exterior mottled with large patches of ivy all climbing in veiny, abstract patterns from the soil to roof. The line of even, round bushes on either side, covered in snow made Casey smile and mutter, “Cupcakes,” aloud, without realizing it.
“Hmm?” Jeremy said, now at the top step with his hand up near the doorbell.
“The bushes, they look like cupcakes. With the snow,” Casey said, knowing that he was now blushing.
Jeremy now wore a goofy grin, saying, “So weird, you,” before pressing the glowing white circle encased in brass décor. Sure enough, the sound it made inside reminded Casey more of church bells announcing their arrival, as if a stuffy butler would open the door for them, turn halfway and call, “Your lordships, Jeremy and Casey, have arrived!” Instead, the door opened and a young man their age, dressed even more to-the-nines than Jeremy and Casey combined, stood there with a smile.
“Hey!” he said, immediately putting an arm out to go around Jeremy’s shoulders. Jeremy laughed and returned the hug, both of them giving each other friendly slaps to the back before Jeremy pulled away.
“Looks like everyone beat us here,” he said, backing off a little and motioning to the long lines of cars they’d parked with.
“Not really… and there are a few surprises heading into the airport, all for tonight,” Thomas, Casey presumed, said. He then looked to Casey and grinned wider. “Speaking of, you finally brought him out for us to meet!”
“’Course.” Jeremy slung an arm over Casey’s shoulders. “My tasty lil’ dish, Casey. Casey, Thomas.”
“Glad to finally meet you, instead of this guy here talking incessantly about you.” Thomas took Casey’s hand to shake, then leaned in to say, “The way he went on, I was expecting to see you in tights and a cape.”
Casey had to laugh. The handsome, blond young man was already proving himself as a friendly guy with his honest smile and firm hand. “Tights, um… not even if ya paid me,” Casey replied, making them both chuckle. Jeremy, blushing a bit, stepped closer to the door.
“C’mon, let us get in, already-too cold,” he said.
“Right this way,” Thomas said, even bowing and sweeping his arm from Casey’s spot to the inside. Casey beamed and followed Jeremy in, now finding himself in a wide, brightly lit foyer filled with all sorts of elaborate sights. From the Oriental rug under his feet to the glittering chandelier hanging above from the rounded dome of a ceiling, he couldn’t help from wearing an awestruck expression. Thomas, taking the role of ‘gracious host’, took the back of Casey’s coat to take from his shoulders. It was brought to a row of gleaming-gold hangers set along the wall, somehow finding an open spot amongst the many coats, jackets and purses. He moved onto Jeremy then piled both of their other winter wear together on the sill closest to a glove-and-hat-covered radiator.
“Everyone in the game-room?” Jeremy asked.
“Eh, almost everyone. Let’s head to the upstairs bar, first. The one downstairs ran out of Dom already, but that’s overrated anyway,” Thomas said while leading the way. “Mother said I could raid the wine cellars for some of the shipment that came in last week, from her friend’s winery in Cali.”
Jeremy, smiling wide, returned to Casey’s side to hold his hand. “Kinda scared that one sip of this stuff’s gonna ruin ya,” he said, giving Casey’s hand a series of playful, tight squeezes. “They only get the best.”
“Hah, not… that big a drinker, but I’ll definitely try it,” Casey said. They approached the large archway leading into what had to be the main room. Once inside, Casey was met with his first, true test as to how things would go.
From the hall, they’d only heard a muted chatter, but his ears were now full of laughing voices, discussion and music. At least two dozen people were milling about, whether talking in groups by the giant, blazing fireplace or relaxing on the many couches, loveseats and chairs together. Most eyes turned their way at the new arrivals; Casey almost froze as if the room had gone dark and a spotlight had been turned his way, making him a spectacle for everyone to stare at.
“Hey, Jerry!”
Casey watched as two other young men, one in an all-black, tight outfit, sunglasses and beret and the other looking as if he’d just gotten back from walking runways in Paris came over to greet Jeremy, each one stealing a quick hug. After quick ‘hello!’s and ‘glad you made it!’s, as expected, they both turned to Casey; Jeremy tugged Casey closer to him.
“Casey, this is Robert…” A hand waved model-boy’s way, then moved to the ‘artiste’, by all appearances, “…And Pierre.”
The sudden chuckle couldn’t be helped, earning Casey quirky grins. “No, sorry-but yeah, I’d say Pierre’s perfect,” he said as he shook Pierre’s hand. A barely-there smile crossed his stony features.
“I do take the French route, in most respects,” he said in a lofty voice.
“Nice to meet you, finally,” Rob said, now taking Casey’s offered hand. “Actually thrilled Jer here has someone to blather about photography with. I’m not a camera-geek like him, but he pretends I am.”
Smiling and shrugging, Casey replied, “Well, that’s how we met, so-makes sense.”
“Here we are…” Thomas returned now, holding a tray with three large wine glasses, each one filled halfway with a pale-yellow liquid. “…Fruits of the ‘Ashland Winery’, at your service.”
Casey waited for Jeremy to take his first then took the one closest to him. “Thanks,” he said, giving it a curious gaze. Jeremy put the glass under his nose and sniffed in deep.
“Wow, one of their best,” he said.
“No lie,” Thomas said.
“And where’s ours?” Rob teased, motioning to Pierre who finally made a relatively friendly smile.
“Over there, why?” Thomas replied with a nod made behind him toward the bar.
“Pfft, great host we got,” Rob said, but chuckled, slapped the young man’s shoulder and moseyed on over to the large, wrap-around bar which provided every alcohol known to man, going by the array of bottles it held.
“Try it,” Jeremy said to Casey, who jerked his eyes from the bar area back to his glass.
“Oh, ‘k,” he said. He gave his glass a small sniff like Jeremy had and hummed. “It does smell awesome.”
“Wait ‘til it hits your tongue,” Thomas said just as Casey finally sipped.
“Mmm,” he hummed again, finding it dry but fruity in flavor. He’d feared the drink would be the ‘chez riche’ type that was enjoyed for its status and pricetag, instead of something actually drinkable. The pleasant surprise in enjoying it was welcome, making Casey smack his smiling lips. “That’s really, really good,” he said.
“There, that shows you’ve got taste,” Thomas said with a wink. He turned his twinkling eyes to Jeremy. “Justin said it didn’t impress him in the slightest.”
Jeremy scoffed. “What does?”
As the pair had a chuckle over someone Casey figured wasn’t as welcome into their ‘crowd’, he continued gazing around the room. It was mostly men here, with a few women spotted throughout. One girl with the most gorgeous, long blond hair Casey had ever seen on a woman’s head, was seated on the arm of the largest leather couch, wearing a sparkling red dress. The heels she wore had long, thin spikes, looking too flimsy to support more than a pound’s worth of weight. But when she stood to go over to another group of guys standing close to the TV area, she walked without any issue whatsoever…
“Case? Hey, Casey?”
Snapping out of it, Casey jerked his head to look to Jeremy, who was grinning wide. “Oh, what? Sorry, was…” he went to say, but the boy chuckled and turned to the others.
“He’s probably taking pictures in his head. That’s what he does, everywhere we go.” He nudged Casey’s arm with his, saying, “I was just asking if you want to go downstairs, check out Thomas’ game-room?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure, sounds fun,” he said.
“Let’s go, then. Last I knew, Sarah was collecting players for a game of ‘Hold ‘Em’. Just like the girl… she’ll be emptying every wallet that dares come close enough to the table,” Thomas said while leading the way past the bar and to the top of a stairwell.
“Hey, I gave her a bit of competition… the last time we played,” Jeremy said.
“If you call ‘competition’ winning one hand for two hundred then losing three and three-k, then yeah, you’re a real shark to contend with,” Thomas teased.
“She lucked every fuckin’ ‘river’ that came out, I would’ve owned her ass otherwise!” Jeremy said past embarrassed chuckling.
‘Three grand?’ Casey’s brain was stuck on the high figure as they descended stairs which had to be cut from marble, with each step gleaming with mottled white and black stone streaks. The large, dark-wood door ahead was propped open, showing off a preview of everything lying past it. “Didn’t know you were a betting-man,” Casey finally couldn’t help himself from saying, hoping his smile kept any ‘what the fuck, three grand??’ feelings he had hidden.
“Eh, win some, lose some,” Jeremy replied, shrugging. “Might play a hand or two-that is, if you’d be so kind to stick close for luck, blow on my cards?”
Casey made a quirky grin and shook his head, making Jeremy chuckle and go from hand-holding to throwing his arm over Casey’s shoulders. As unfamiliar as the settings were, it felt good in knowing Jeremy was there to make sure everyone knew that Casey did have a place here. Somehow.
~*~
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey's skipping and 'soiree'-ing.
Casey had waited at the edge of the parking lot for a reason. The thanks he needed to give was something he couldn’t have done over the phone, and trying to yell it over the crowds in the hallway would have been even worse. ‘Remember not having to take that damned bus?’ he thought as he gazed out at the lot’s entrance, where he hoped the GTO would come flying through soon. His bus usually got to school before Zeke did, due to stops at Dunks or… just having his own ride and time to get there when he got there. It was a freedom Casey had only gotten a taste of, getting picked up at home by Zeke becoming their routine. But owning a car, your own car, was so much more different.
He’d been so lost in thought that the loud roaring engine of Zeke’s revving away turned expectation into surprise, Casey jumping a little at the sound. While it’d been a good, long time since Zeke had arrived in the rowdy way he’d done for years, he still made an entrance. Heads turned, eyes rolled and girls made devious smiles, as always. The last item made Casey grit his teeth as he stood and made his way over to where Zeke had parked.
“Hey,” he said once a few feet away; Zeke turned from shutting his door to face him.
“Hey. S’up?” he said. Per usual, he made up his last cigarette before trudging off into the building; leaning on the car, he shrugged his shoulders up tight against his ears. “Couldn’t find my hat this morning, so of course it’s like… ten-the-fuck-below.”
“It’s… winter.”
“The Bayou’s looking better and better each day, lemmee t-tell ya…” Zeke winced and shrunk into himself more at the cold wind rushing through. “G-God d-damn… maybe it’s ‘fuck-it’ time like, today. With Mardi Gras coming and-“
“I loved the gift,” Casey blurted out, barely feeling the cold himself. He still carried the warmth he’d gotten from that battered, brown bag, however uncomfortable it made him. He felt almost too hot wearing his wool hat and scarf.
“Yeah? Good. Then… I’m glad we went on that excavation project,” Zeke replied. He looked to be fighting on a smile, the corners of his lips twitching. Whether it was trying to save face or his face was starting to freeze the very blood fighting to feed his brain, Casey wasn’t sure.
“It was real special. Like, hah…” It was Casey’s turn to try and look casual, but in saying, “I even cried,” he knew he’d revealed too much. The softening expression on Zeke’s face and slow, blinking eyes said as much.
“Why? Didn’t g-get it done for you to c-“ he went to say, but the next wind was harder and colder than the last. “’K, the FUCK am I n-not in t-th-the C-CAR for…”
Casey watched him hop over to the driver’s side door, return to his seat then shut himself in. All Casey could do was stare, until the engine came on and Zeke rolled the window down. “The fuck are Y-YOU standing there for?? Get the hell in!” he yelled.
Casey shook the cobwebs from his head, nodded then rushed over to the passenger side. He just escaped the next blast of frozen air coming through with a flick of his wrist, pulling his door closed. “Thanks,” he said.
“Not like I was gonna put the window down a notch and talk to you through it. I’m not that much of a cruel bastard,” Zeke replied. He turned the volume knob of the radio up, not to ear-shattering levels but just enough to hear the local alternative rock station’s playing Nine Inch Nail’s ‘Head Like a Hole’. He sank back against the seat, head tilted up with the tip of his cigarette mere inches from the ceiling. “Got, like… fifteen minutes of sleep last night.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Casey said.
“Dunno what the fuck kept me watching that string of infomercials. I coulda changed the channel, or-fuck, maybe gone to bed. Novel idea. But…” He was interrupted by a heavy yawn. “…Chr-r-ist, I downed too much damned coffee to be yawning… anyway. You ever seen that infomercial for ‘Slam-Man’?”
Casey felt confused. ‘Since when does he ramble like this?’ he thought. “No?” he finally answered.
“You gotta. It’s the worst informercial I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something. But as most of that shit goes, the worse it is, the funnier it gets. It’s just this-mannequin-type of thing that you punch and stuff. They call it a ‘workout’, when it should be called ‘pretty fucking disturbing’, if you ask-“
“Why-are you talking about this?” Casey asked. Didn’t he realize there were more pressing matters at hand, none of it having anything to do with what insomniacs were forced to watch? Zeke turned to face him, sucked in a drag then plucked it from his lips.
“I’m most talkative the less sleep I get, really.” Zeke shrugged and yawned again. Looking annoyed, he turned to face the school. “Like anything today’s NOT gonna put me to sleep. How in fuck am I gonna make it to two…”
“It’s a half-day, remember?” Casey asked. Zeke turned back to him, brows knitted in tight and lips parted.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, inservice day. Half-day. Thought outta everyone, you’d be on top of that stuff,” Casey said.
“I missed a memo, cos’… I wouldn’t have bothered coming for a stupid half-day,” he said with sleepy-scorn. He rubbed his face with his hand then let it drop in a slap on the wheel. “I’ve got a pretty good attendance record nowadays.”
“Zeke… you shouldn’t. C’mon, you’re already here, anyway.”
“Mmm. Nah.”
Casey jolted when Zeke turned the key to the last slot, kicking the entire car into go-go-gear. “I… you’re gonna bail?” Casey said, his hand going to the door handle. He stayed in his spot for the moment, however, giving Zeke a perplexed expression. “I’d-wanted to chat a bit, talk about… stuff.”
“Okay. So talk,” Zeke said. Before Casey could take him up on that, he put the car in reverse, threw himself around to scan the area and began backing out.
“Wait! Zeke, no, I can’t-“
“After the shit your dad pulled, I bet he’d let this one slide. He’d even write-up an excuse to keep you outta detention.” Zeke backed out all the way, threw the gear to ‘D’ and gave Casey a small but very devious grin. “C’mon. We’re both too fucking tired for this shit. We can head out, grab something to eat then if you have to, crash at my place for a while.”
“I…I…” Casey stammered and stared at Zeke’s fist which was clenched tight on the shift. If he said, ‘no, it’s a school day, I won’t let you tarnish my record!’ Zeke would roll his eyes and shove him out of the car himself. But instead, Casey sank back down into the seat, still keeping a wary gaze on the deviant. “Just… go, then.”
Zeke’s grin went from miniscule to atomic as he hit the gas and sent them flying toward the exit. “FI-nally, after how many times I’d suggested we DO this over the last year?” Zeke howled out, obviously overjoyed.
“What’s the deal wanting me to go along with this crap any-WATCH it!” Casey yelled at the last second when he saw a squirrel jump into the road, directly in their path. The terrified animal skittered away in the nick of time, rushing to the same side he’d hopped from and up into a tree.
“Shit, Casey… save that kinda screaming for strollers and nuns,” Zeke said with a hearty chuckle. “Ma-a-an…”
“I LIKE squirrels,” Casey spat, even moped as he did his best to relax in his seat. Zeke slowing down and putting the brakes on at the next intersection of a four-way stop helped.
“So where do we get some breakfast? Diner?” Zeke asked, then again yawned the hardest he’d done thus far. Snapping his eyes open and closed a few times, he grunted and moved them along, cutting his speed down as they went. “Drive-thru, taken to my place. Not getting outta the car ‘til then.”
“Yeah, good id…” Casey went to say before he finally caved to his own hard yawn.
~*~
It’d been a long time since Casey had gotten to McDonald’s before their breakfast menu was taken down. Finding breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns instead of burgers and fries displayed in the drive-thru had been a pleasant surprise, even making him say, “Oh, yeah… ain’t even eight o’clock yet,” under his breath as Zeke gave his order.
Casey had almost protested Zeke’s, “I’m buying, whattaya want?” offering, but was glad he hadn’t. Having dropped the last of his cash at the diner for tip, he would’ve been embarrassed in having to ask Zeke if it was okay to change his mind while flashing his empty wallet at him. Not that Zeke would’ve said, “sucks to be you, I guess,” and eaten in front of him, but he’d make a point to mention it every time they went out to eat together.
Just Casey’s thinking he was getting back into a routine with Zeke--every time they went out said it all-even through a simple friendship was both wonderful and scary. More anxiety threatened him when they pulled into Zeke’s driveway, letting him wonder how things would go once they were in Zeke’s house. Going by what Zeke had said, his playing-hooky was going to involve their meals, more brainless daytime TV, informercials or not, then a nap. Even if Casey was just as tired and ready for a few winks himself, Zeke didn’t seem to find anything odd about Casey having those winks here, in the same house-if not the same room. Bed.
‘Wonder what I’m gonna wear tonight to that swa…ree,’ Casey tried switching subjects in his brain. As Zeke rushed up the stairs to get the door open, Casey followed, mentally going through what was back home in his closet when it came to his Friday night plans. Now inside, he put their bags down on the hall’s side table, removed his coat and said, “Thanks for breakfast. It’s been forever since I’ve made it to McD’s for it.”
“My craving it usually starts the night before, luckily. Let’s me force down sleep and set my clock, even on a Sunday,” Zeke replied then motioned to the kitchen doorway. “Should I make a pot?”
“Um, you got a coffee with your meal, remember?”
“Yeah, but you got juice. But… never mind.”
Casey nodded and smiled as he sat down to start unwrapping his food. “Yeah, it’s either I get sucky sleep so I drink coffee then feel blitzed by noon, or just go the hell to bed,” he said.
“My tolerance is too high, I guess. ‘Wonder if coke would do the trick…” Zeke said. The jerking of his head to give Zeke a wide-eyed, stern expression almost broke Casey’s neck.
“Don’t even joke,” Casey said with heavy warning.
“Well, I was… geez, fine, I’d never. Promise,” Zeke said.
“Good.” Casey left it there, choosing instead to sink his teeth into his bacon, egg and cheese on his favorite biscuit. The taste made a rumbling moan tickle deep in his chest and throat. “Thaf gurd,” he said with his mouth full.
“I mo, wite?”
Manners were useless now. Both of them gobbled down their food, Casey wishing he’d gotten a second sandwich like Zeke had. He’d chosen the sausage and egg on a McMuffin first, heading quickly to his number two of bacon and egg, again on his McMuffin favorite. “Wah mon’ woo wike weez?”
“Huwah?”
Casey rolled his eyes and fought to swallow, the last huge bite of the sandwich needing a few punches to the chest in order to get into Casey’s gullet. Sighing, Casey smiled and asked, “Why don’t you like cheese?” again.
Zeke shrugged, chewed and swallowed himself before replying, “I do. Just not on breakfast sandwiches. Dunno why.”
“Mmm,” Casey said, shrugging it off. He now reached for his favorite-favorite from the fast food breakfast menu, that being the hashbrown. It was still somehow hot enough for Casey to blow on. “These ones are the best. I could eat fifty of ‘em in one sitting,” he said.
“Yeah, they’re good. You shoulda gotten two of ‘em, or two of both sandwich and hash,” Zeke said.
“Wasn’t gonna rape your wallet like that,” Casey replied.
“Still…” Zeke polished off the second sandwich then reached back into his bag. Since he’d gotten the sandwiches as two value-meals, he had two hashbrowns to go with them. Both were brought out; one stayed on the flattened bag, while Zeke sat back against the couch eating the other. “Have at it,” he told Casey while motioning to the table.
“What, the hashbrown? You don’t want it?” Casey asked.
“Eh, the two sammiches did enough for me. One suits me fine, right now.”
Casey beamed and reached over to take it. “Thanks, again,” he said.
“No bigs.” Zeke finished off the last of his meal in a flash then grabbed a few napkins to wipe the grease from his fingers. “So, you… liked it, huh?”
“Breakfast? Duh, of course-“
“No, no. The gift. Belated birthday, that.”
Casey slowed his chewing as he looked back at Zeke, who was also gazing his way. He didn’t look avoidant or anxious now, the odd rambling from before replaced with a calm expression. “Yeah. It was special. Special and… sad,” he softly replied.
“Sad, cos’…”
“Why ask? You know,” Casey said. He took the last bite of the hashbrown, grabbed the juice he’d forgotten all about and uncapped it for a sip. With Zeke staying quiet, Casey figured it was his turn to keep talking, as he’d let Zeke have the floor two nights before. He turned to face Zeke, one knee up, the other stretched to the middle of the couch. “Even if I’d acted like you were a jerk, near the end, there… you were always sweet. Said sweet things, and meant them. I always felt that. So, getting that gift more than a month after I was supposed to… I just… feel sad about it.”
“I know. I’d thought, back then, about just giving it to you. However… romantic, I guess, it was when I’d gotten it, wasn’t like it had to be attached to our ‘boyfriend stage’, entirely anyway,” Zeke said. “But it didn’t feel right. So it just got lost in the chaos of my locker.”
“Yeah.” Casey gazed down at his knee now, studying the light and dark blues mixing together in the denim. “It was more than thoughtful. I worried that you’d blown a wad, getting some super-expensive thing, necklace, whatever. If it’d been some… diamond-encrusted deal, I would’ve ran to your place to give it back, demanding you sell it online or some shit. But what it was, you can’t… sell.”
Zeke remained silent, only nodding along as he too stared off into space, slumping down most of the way against the stacks of pillows behind him. Casey sucked his lips in and tried thinking on what to say. Nothing to make things ‘just right’, never mind perfect came to mind. Was there anything that’d suddenly make everything right again? He kept scanning his brain, hard and long enough to feel a headache coming on. When he lifted his head halfway and blurted, “I love you,” out of nowhere, he panicked.
‘Ohgodohgodohgod, whatdidIjustdo…’ the words mashed together in his mind, rushing by in terror. “I’m so…” Casey snapped his eyes up to apologize, he’d keep apologizing… or he WOULD have, if the person he’d spoken to had heard him. Instead, Zeke’s eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in slow swells, letting Casey know that he’d dodged a mighty deadly bullet. He deflated against the cushions like a popped balloon, the stress and anxiety that had rushed into him at light-speed now exiting the same way. It left him gazing at the other side of the couch through half-lidded eyes.
Would he have gotten angry? Yelled? Cried? Reached over? Pulled Casey against him? Kissed him, held him, grabbed at him, molested him the way only Zeke had? However exhausted he’d become, no matter how much that fatigue was seriously messing with Casey’s mind in imagining anything past ‘buddies’ between he and the sleeping, gorgeous boy before him… ‘Jeremy, remember?’
His next thought of, ‘He’d never know, unless you told him,’ was scary enough to have Casey close his eyes, choosing sleep over making everything worse.
~*~
Whatever had made Pauly Shore enter the ‘Dance-Off’ competition Casey had also signed-up for was a mystery. Thing was, the guy was surprisingly skilled, especially when it came to the Robot Dance. The crowd around them cheered as he made jerky, robotic steps from side-to-side, worrying Casey. If he wanted to graduate high school and get into a good college, that trophy needed to be put into his hands. He scanned the judges’ faces; the smiles Mrs. Olsen, the human-sized squirrel going by the name of ‘Road-Killz’ and Principal Drake wore weren’t encouraging.
”Why is a squirrel serving as a dance-off judge?” Casey asked himself out loud before moving onto his next question of, ”Why do I need to win a dance-off to graduate? That doesn’t make any…”
“S-s-sen…se…”
“Case?”
Zeke’s voice now intertwined with the horror of watching the judges rushing to Pauly with the trophy. Casey opened his mouth to scream in protest, just as his eyes began opening in feeling his shoulder being lightly shaken.
“Hey… wake up,” the blurry, hazy version of Zeke said. Casey blinked profusely, still wondering what was going on.
“I… gotta graduate. D… Dancing…”
“Huh?”
Casey swallowed and went to make more desperate pleas for a second chance at his shot for a diploma, but stilled when the world around him came into focus. Zeke stood off to the side, staring down at him with a perplexed expression. “You okay?”
“I… d-damn, I was… dreaming,” Casey said. He sank against the small decorative pillow he’d fallen asleep on. Despite its tough texture, he felt too relieved to care. A smile came on his face. “I had to win a dance contest against Pauly Shore, for of all things… m-my friggin’ diploma.”
“Oh. Oh, I’ve had those weird-as-fuck school dreams, too,” Zeke said past rampant chuckling. Casey turned his head up while trying to get himself up onto an elbow. He saw a mug going to Zeke’s lips and raised his eyebrows.
“Coffee?”
“Right there on the table, waiting for you.”
Casey made a drowsy smile as he turned and found the prepared drink sitting next to Zeke’s ashtray. “Aw, thanks…” A yawn made him go still a moment; as his eyes reopened, they fell on the cable box above the TV. The flashing eights made him sit up in a panic. “Shit!” he suddenly hollered, loud enough to make Zeke jump.
“Fuck, what??”
“What… what time’s it…?” Casey asked in a rush. He scanned the room for a clock, but Zeke raised his wrist up for a look at his watch.
“Ain’t even two yet. Why, you gotta get home at a certain time?”
“Oh. Okay, good. And no. Well… yeah.” Casey rubbed his face with both hands, trying to clear the groggy, foggy mess still lingering in his head. “Got time, but… Jeremy’s picking me up at six. ‘Guess a friend of his is having this swah-ree.”
Zeke sat down on the other side of the couch, giving Casey a questioning stare. “A what?”
“Yeah, knew I wasn’t pronouncing it right. It’s-French, for ‘party’ or whatever.”
“Ah, a soi-ree,” Zeke said with a growing smile.
“Which means ‘fancy’. So… I’ll have to get going in a bit to get fancy, I guess.” Casey smiled and grabbed the mug Zeke had given him. The first sip revealed that Zeke hadn’t forgotten how he liked it; light cream, extra sugar. “S’good. Thanks.”
“No prob. It should help… that and the sleep you got,” Zeke replied. “You’ll be able to swah-ree the night away.”
“Oh, stop. Sorry I’m such a low-class hick,” Casey said, chortling.
“Hey, I took French my freshman year, that’s the only reason I know any. The conjugations fried my brain, so… just got the basics,” Zeke said. A few moments passed with the two of them sipping quietly; Casey started to feel the energy trickling in, from both the coffee and what a few hours of sleep provided. It gave him hope that he would be ready for a good time out tonight, as Zeke had said. But the very idea of how it was more than a simple ‘party’, going by flamboyant-French descriptors and the kind of scenery and amenities…
‘You gotta give it a shot,’ His reasonable side told him. Jeremy had spent his snow-day off with Casey and his friends, after all. He’d let Casey know that he’d had fun with them all, even Zeke. “I can see why you went for him,” he’d said when Zeke had taken a bathroom break, the night they’d all had dinner. In retrospect, knowing how Zeke and his father had been scheming, Casey had to smirk to himself in the here and now. He wasn’t mad about it anymore; in fact, it’d backfired on them in a way, and not just in Casey’s finding out. Casey knew that if Jeremy really had been a jerk, Zeke would have seen it enough to have stepped in and done something about it, past whatever crazy schemes going on. But Jeremy wasn’t that jerk, and it was enough for everyone to give up and back off.
But while Jeremy had ‘passed the ex-test’ enough, another thought crept into his mind. As Zeke grunted, grabbed the remote and asked, “You like the crazy shit on ‘Jenny Jones’?”, Casey shrugged and stared into his coffee as his brain whirred away. It was sending him back to that morning, when he’d almost made a huge, irrecoverable mess of things in blurting I love you to Zeke. He hadn’t planned it, or even knew the ‘why’ behind his saying it, altogether. It’d just come out of him from nowhere, inspired by something he still couldn’t explain. He looked up to the boy, who was staring ahead at the TV while enjoying a smoke. He was his usual slouching, relaxed self, taking in the talk show topic of the day: ‘Big & Bad Teen Girls Meet Their Match!’ Casey glanced to the TV and snorted.
“Boot camp, huh?” he remarked, nodding to the three scantily-clad teenage girls getting shouted at by a huge military guy. While two laughed and tried evading him, the smallest, thinnest girl Casey had ever seen was shouting right back into the officer’s face.
“Dad almost sent me to one, actually. Back when I was a freshman,” Zeke said.
“Yeah? Why?”
“Hah, gotta ask? He couldn’t handle my shit.”
“Ah,” Casey said. He smiled, trying to remember when he’d been a freshman himself, and when he’d first crossed paths with the tall, broody delinquent Zeke. He would’ve been a sophomore, obviously having escaped the threat of his father’s. “You would’ve owned every one of those guys.”
“Who? Wait, boot camp?” Zeke said. He glanced away from the TV to give Casey an odd expression. “I would’ve folded into a crying, wimpy mess, really. My asshole dad, I could manipulate. These guys?” He waved to the TV, which showed the girls being shuffled-off backstage to get into fatigues. The girl who’d been yelling back was snarling and sneering the officer’s way, who was now joined by an equally tough-looking, unyielding woman officer. “The skinny chick’s gonna crack first. Ten bucks,” Zeke said.
“Hah, you’re on,” Casey said, even reaching over to shake on it.
~*~
“I’ll drop by the bank tomorrow. I gotta anyway, if I wanna take advantage of that sale at Shot-Spot…”
“How many times do I gotta tell you I ain’t taking your stupid money?”
Casey looked up from sorting through his bag to Zeke, who was shaking his head and keeping his eyes on the road. “We shook on that shit. I take it seriously,” he said.
“Take it as a lesson. The louder some supposed bad-ass little girl yells, the more she’s gonna cry later,” Zeke replied.
“I guess. But-fine. I’ll compromise. Next time we end up in drive-thru, the McD’s is on me. ‘K?” Casey told him.
“Oh, whatever. So stubborn. I should know better than to make bets with someone with your ethical approach,” he replied. He shot Casey a smirk as he turned onto his street. “Let’s call it the Dunks run we’ll take on the way to school Monday.”
“Oh. You wanna start carting my ass around again, huh?”
“Why not? We’re cool. We have been.”
“Yeah.” Casey sighed as they reached his house. In a way, he wished he hadn’t had the party-plans with Jeremy, as dropping off his things and rushing back out to the GTO sounded better. Zeke must have noticed his pause and vacant stare out toward the house.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just… wondering what the fuck I gotta wear to this thing tonight,” Casey replied. “It’s gotta be good enough to not make Jeremy force me into HIS closets.”
“This again, huh?” Zeke wryly said. “You got my opinion on that. Go as you are.”
“When it’s called a ‘soiree’?”
Zeke rolled his eyes. “Who are all these pals of Jer’s gonna meet tonight? Jeremy’s new guy, Casey Connor, who doesn’t need to be slathered in designer wear to be liked.”
“I’m not saying… ugh…” Casey chuckled and looked to Zeke, who was giving him a cool stare back. “I know, ‘k? Like your gift said, ‘stay young and beautiful’.”
Zeke’s expression sobered a little; he turned away and shrugged. “It’s good advice,” he said.
“I agree.” Casey grabbed Zeke’s arm and squeezed it. “Hope you take it yourself.”
“What, my own advice? Hah, never.”
“Fi-i-ine then, take it from me.” Casey opened his door and let one foot out, keeping the other still for a moment to say, “You stay young and beautiful too, Zeke.”
The smile Zeke made was warm and sweet. “We’ll see. Now get out, you’re letting the fucking freeze in,” he said.
Chuckling, Casey took his leave, giving Zeke a quick wave before rushing to the house. As he listened to the car’s engine roar its way down the road, he got inside, threw off his winter wear and sighed. ‘Time to get beautiful, I guess,’ he said as he made his way upstairs to his room.
~*~
Though Casey had been showered, dressed and preened a whole hour before Jeremy was to collect him, he was still fussing over how he looked. In between loading zones in Everquest, the darkened screen gave him a quick look at his reflection. Each time he’d lean in, move a stray hair back into its gelled position then sink back with a groan. It didn’t matter if he knew he looked good. It was the idea that he might not look good enough.
“Casey! Jeremy’s here!” his mother called from downstairs.
As he heard muted conversation between her and Jeremy, Casey sighed, shut the game down and yelled, “C’mon up! I gotta…” He went to his mirror and gave himself yet another close inspection. Past his nervousness, he did like having someone to look good for. Footfalls sounded off from the stairs, until Jeremy rapped lightly on the cracked-open door.
“Knock, knock!”
Casey smiled and turned to the boy entering the room. Before he could reply, he took in Jeremy’s own appearance. “Wow. You… got really decked-out,” he said of the black, pressed slacks and black button-up sweater, the first three buttons undone to reveal the forest green silk shirt underneath. His black wing-tips looked like they’d been perfectly polished, gleaming in the low light of the room.
“Thanks. As for you…” Jeremy smiled and let his eyes roam over Casey. Casey smiled back; he had been highly-selective and choosy over what clothes to wear, which had to show. Though nothing he wore required his parents to sign over a month’s worth of paychecks for him to have, Casey had dug all the way to the way back of his closet for these choices. His grandparents all but lived at Steiger’s and it showed in the gifts they gave him. Being good clothes, he rarely wore them. But the newest pair of dark denim jeans was joined by his nicest midnight-blue button-down, meshy black cardigan and rarely-worn black dress shoes. Finally, after what seemed like more than an hour, Jeremy sighed, grinned and said, “…I came prepared.”
Casey frowned as he dumped his bulging messenger bag on Casey’s bed, opened it and began taking bagged items out. “What’s… that?” he asked.
“My way of saying ‘no excuses, boy.’ Instead of wanting to make a pit-stop at my place to throw my closets at you, I brought some of that closet with me.” Jeremy emptied one of the two bags onto the comforter, picked it up and held it up to show Casey. “First-off, jeans are a no-no. Those are nicer than your usual, but these?”
Casey blinked profusely at the sight of brown slacks, looking perfectly ironed despite them coming out of Jeremy’s stuffed-up bag. “Uh… might not fit, you’re a little bigger and taller than I am…” he said, but Jeremy clucked his tongue.
“I am now, but these are from my scrawnier days. Go on.”
“I…” Casey started, shaking his head and looking back down at himself. Hadn’t he done a good enough job on his own? Why was he being harangued into changing? He looked up and meant to start protesting, when an odd thought came to mind…
‘Remember those other times you had to have everything ‘your way’?’ As Jeremy sighed, laid the slacks out and talked about what else he was going to replace Casey’s chosen outfit with, Casey was deep in thought. He was taken back to the other night when he’d kept his mouth shut and let Zeke-finally-get things out in the open. The memories raced by and went into other things; the belated birthday gift he’d wished he’d stuck around for, Zeke’s chill nature around him to begin with, whatever else reminded Casey how easy it was, ending at regret. He didn’t want Jeremy to be a part of those regrets, did he? What would be so wrong, letting the young man dress him up a bit?
“You can’t say no to this, and if you try? I’m driving you to a nut-ward instead of an awesome party,” Jeremy was saying, making Casey look over at him again. The two pieces he held, one a long-sleeved, black and sleek jersey with a small collar at the neck and chocolate-brown, warm-looking cardigan were indeed very nice. Nowhere near Casey’s style; it was TOO stylish, but plainer than he liked. It was sure to be a showoff-piece in what name was tacked onto the tags on the inside.
“I… guess. I can try,” he haltingly replied.
“Try, nothing. I spent more time on picking your outfit than mine!” Jeremy said with a chuckle. He then made a sweet, pleading smile, eyebrows raised a little as he said, “Please? I’d love to see you in this stuff. Plus, nothing comes home with me, y’know. It’s all going into YOUR closets, instead.”
Casey tried smiling back as he shrugged, went over and took the offerings. “I’ll take them into the bathroom, see how they look,” he said.
“Aw, not here…?” Jeremy pouted as he raked Casey’s body with his eyes.
“Hah, with my mom downstairs? Bad idea, boy,” he said.
“A’right, fine. But don’t take them off until I see you!”
“I won’t,” Casey said. Before he could reach the door, Jeremy took his arm and reeled him in close to take a light kiss from Casey’s lips.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said with a wink.
Casey sighed. “Yeah, yeah, rude… thank you,” he said.
~*~
Though the small, fabric tag reading ‘Gucci’, sewn into the sweater’s collar was soft and barely noticeable as Casey wore it, he kept scratching at the back of his neck anyway. It felt irritated for some reason. While Jeremy switched CDs in his player, leaving Smashing Pumpkins behind in favor of some indie-band Casey didn’t know, the radio played the end of ‘Free Bird’.
“Shit, green… that light was fast,” Jeremy said as he let his CD case rest on the console to drive through the intersection. “Throw it in… unless you wanna choose something else.”
“Radio’s fine,” Casey replied.
“I’m not that into radio, myself, but… another pothole, damn…” The young man cut the wheel quick but carefully, avoiding a large chunk of missing pavement. “With how my dad bitches about taking a hit tax-wise around here, these roads should be paved with platinum.”
Casey chuckled a little, shifted in his seat and looked through his window at the passing scenery. Having passed through the busier city of Kent along with its University, they were now heading into the deep suburbs. Stow was a nice town, full of golf courses and houses that seemed to grow larger the deeper you drove into it. Casey had traveled through the area to get to parks and nature preserves, with both Zeke and Jeremy, by this point. The former of the two would make mention of friends he had here, along with tales of ‘wild times’ they’d shared. Going by his descriptions, Casey had nothing to worry about. ‘They’re just a bunch of teenagers, like me,’ he thought as Jeremy turned the Audi right.
“Almost there,” he said. “I can’t wait for you to see this place. It was huge when they got it, but after a few years his parents sent the place sprawling. Their entire basement is one giant game-room, SO cool…”
“Sounds cool,” Casey said, though he was still apprehensive. He looked down at his hands which were tucked tight between his knees. Why was Jeremy so keen on Casey wearing brown? It didn’t seem right, look right. Nonetheless, Casey had been assured that he’d match the fine décor and other well-dressed partygoers. Something soft and familiar tickled his ears then; lightly-strummed guitar, alone and lost in muted radio crackle. Casey looked to the stereo, seeing the bright blue numbers 101.3. ‘Into the Floyd…’ he thought absently as ‘Wish You Were Here’ streamed through. His skin went tight and goose-fleshed when the intro passed and the lyrics arrived. He mouthed along without realizing.
So… so you think you can tell… heaven from--
Casey almost jumped in Jeremy’s sudden slapping at the radio buttons, groaning with distaste as he did. “Ugh, can’t stand that band… so overplayed,” he said, chuckling as he did. “Seriously, they play the same three or four songs from those hacks, every day…”
Casey’s lips parted to say, ‘They’re my favorite, actually,’ but stopped. This was Jeremy’s car, after all. No passenger could take over the music end of the rides they’d take, not without permission. A pop song Casey didn’t recognize played now, even if he’d decided to take the last two minutes of the trip with the song continuing on in his head. He felt a pang of guilt; again, this was Jeremy’s car, with Jeremy there next to him. Thinking of how easily he’d swayed to that song, soft but strong hands at his waist and back as they’d turned together, how warm the words, ”hear this song every time you leave,” had been breathed into his ear…
“Here we are!” Jeremy announced, now pulling into a long, sloping driveway. Casey fought his attention back into the present, meeting another awe-filled sight. The large, sprawling-indeed mansion seemed to be miles above them, aloft in the heavens as the Audi climbed up the hill leading to it. Once on even ground, Casey stared out over the wide, white-covered area that served as a lawn more than likely, lined by black iron ornate fencing. A large dark circle interrupted the snow, making him frown and ask, “Is that a pond?”
Jeremy glanced over and chuckled. “That’s a helipad.”
“A… what?”
“It’s for when Thomas’ dad’s business partners fly in from Montreal, or wherever else. Instead of taking a cab from the airport, Mr. Eton lets them make use of his helicopter.”
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year-after-year… the words somehow managed to sing past Casey’s growing apprehension, as if he needed something familiar to hold onto. But the soft, crooned comfort playing in his mind snapped away the moment Jeremy parked, shut the engine off and looked to Casey with a smile.
“You look nervous,” he remarked.
Casey looked away from the main entrance of the place to Jeremy. “Can’t… blame me, can ya?” he asked, adding a nervous chuckle at the end.
“Babe. After giving the glowing reports I have to these guys? They already love ya,” Jeremy said. He gave Casey’s hand a squeeze, said, “C’mon,” and got out, Casey somehow managing to also exit the car and join his side.
The doorway they walked toward made him wonder if it usually had guards framing it, looking as regal as it did. At the very least, it gave Casey the frame of mind as to what to expect in going past them. He couldn’t help but gaze around along the walls, its dark brick exterior mottled with large patches of ivy all climbing in veiny, abstract patterns from the soil to roof. The line of even, round bushes on either side, covered in snow made Casey smile and mutter, “Cupcakes,” aloud, without realizing it.
“Hmm?” Jeremy said, now at the top step with his hand up near the doorbell.
“The bushes, they look like cupcakes. With the snow,” Casey said, knowing that he was now blushing.
Jeremy now wore a goofy grin, saying, “So weird, you,” before pressing the glowing white circle encased in brass décor. Sure enough, the sound it made inside reminded Casey more of church bells announcing their arrival, as if a stuffy butler would open the door for them, turn halfway and call, “Your lordships, Jeremy and Casey, have arrived!” Instead, the door opened and a young man their age, dressed even more to-the-nines than Jeremy and Casey combined, stood there with a smile.
“Hey!” he said, immediately putting an arm out to go around Jeremy’s shoulders. Jeremy laughed and returned the hug, both of them giving each other friendly slaps to the back before Jeremy pulled away.
“Looks like everyone beat us here,” he said, backing off a little and motioning to the long lines of cars they’d parked with.
“Not really… and there are a few surprises heading into the airport, all for tonight,” Thomas, Casey presumed, said. He then looked to Casey and grinned wider. “Speaking of, you finally brought him out for us to meet!”
“’Course.” Jeremy slung an arm over Casey’s shoulders. “My tasty lil’ dish, Casey. Casey, Thomas.”
“Glad to finally meet you, instead of this guy here talking incessantly about you.” Thomas took Casey’s hand to shake, then leaned in to say, “The way he went on, I was expecting to see you in tights and a cape.”
Casey had to laugh. The handsome, blond young man was already proving himself as a friendly guy with his honest smile and firm hand. “Tights, um… not even if ya paid me,” Casey replied, making them both chuckle. Jeremy, blushing a bit, stepped closer to the door.
“C’mon, let us get in, already-too cold,” he said.
“Right this way,” Thomas said, even bowing and sweeping his arm from Casey’s spot to the inside. Casey beamed and followed Jeremy in, now finding himself in a wide, brightly lit foyer filled with all sorts of elaborate sights. From the Oriental rug under his feet to the glittering chandelier hanging above from the rounded dome of a ceiling, he couldn’t help from wearing an awestruck expression. Thomas, taking the role of ‘gracious host’, took the back of Casey’s coat to take from his shoulders. It was brought to a row of gleaming-gold hangers set along the wall, somehow finding an open spot amongst the many coats, jackets and purses. He moved onto Jeremy then piled both of their other winter wear together on the sill closest to a glove-and-hat-covered radiator.
“Everyone in the game-room?” Jeremy asked.
“Eh, almost everyone. Let’s head to the upstairs bar, first. The one downstairs ran out of Dom already, but that’s overrated anyway,” Thomas said while leading the way. “Mother said I could raid the wine cellars for some of the shipment that came in last week, from her friend’s winery in Cali.”
Jeremy, smiling wide, returned to Casey’s side to hold his hand. “Kinda scared that one sip of this stuff’s gonna ruin ya,” he said, giving Casey’s hand a series of playful, tight squeezes. “They only get the best.”
“Hah, not… that big a drinker, but I’ll definitely try it,” Casey said. They approached the large archway leading into what had to be the main room. Once inside, Casey was met with his first, true test as to how things would go.
From the hall, they’d only heard a muted chatter, but his ears were now full of laughing voices, discussion and music. At least two dozen people were milling about, whether talking in groups by the giant, blazing fireplace or relaxing on the many couches, loveseats and chairs together. Most eyes turned their way at the new arrivals; Casey almost froze as if the room had gone dark and a spotlight had been turned his way, making him a spectacle for everyone to stare at.
“Hey, Jerry!”
Casey watched as two other young men, one in an all-black, tight outfit, sunglasses and beret and the other looking as if he’d just gotten back from walking runways in Paris came over to greet Jeremy, each one stealing a quick hug. After quick ‘hello!’s and ‘glad you made it!’s, as expected, they both turned to Casey; Jeremy tugged Casey closer to him.
“Casey, this is Robert…” A hand waved model-boy’s way, then moved to the ‘artiste’, by all appearances, “…And Pierre.”
The sudden chuckle couldn’t be helped, earning Casey quirky grins. “No, sorry-but yeah, I’d say Pierre’s perfect,” he said as he shook Pierre’s hand. A barely-there smile crossed his stony features.
“I do take the French route, in most respects,” he said in a lofty voice.
“Nice to meet you, finally,” Rob said, now taking Casey’s offered hand. “Actually thrilled Jer here has someone to blather about photography with. I’m not a camera-geek like him, but he pretends I am.”
Smiling and shrugging, Casey replied, “Well, that’s how we met, so-makes sense.”
“Here we are…” Thomas returned now, holding a tray with three large wine glasses, each one filled halfway with a pale-yellow liquid. “…Fruits of the ‘Ashland Winery’, at your service.”
Casey waited for Jeremy to take his first then took the one closest to him. “Thanks,” he said, giving it a curious gaze. Jeremy put the glass under his nose and sniffed in deep.
“Wow, one of their best,” he said.
“No lie,” Thomas said.
“And where’s ours?” Rob teased, motioning to Pierre who finally made a relatively friendly smile.
“Over there, why?” Thomas replied with a nod made behind him toward the bar.
“Pfft, great host we got,” Rob said, but chuckled, slapped the young man’s shoulder and moseyed on over to the large, wrap-around bar which provided every alcohol known to man, going by the array of bottles it held.
“Try it,” Jeremy said to Casey, who jerked his eyes from the bar area back to his glass.
“Oh, ‘k,” he said. He gave his glass a small sniff like Jeremy had and hummed. “It does smell awesome.”
“Wait ‘til it hits your tongue,” Thomas said just as Casey finally sipped.
“Mmm,” he hummed again, finding it dry but fruity in flavor. He’d feared the drink would be the ‘chez riche’ type that was enjoyed for its status and pricetag, instead of something actually drinkable. The pleasant surprise in enjoying it was welcome, making Casey smack his smiling lips. “That’s really, really good,” he said.
“There, that shows you’ve got taste,” Thomas said with a wink. He turned his twinkling eyes to Jeremy. “Justin said it didn’t impress him in the slightest.”
Jeremy scoffed. “What does?”
As the pair had a chuckle over someone Casey figured wasn’t as welcome into their ‘crowd’, he continued gazing around the room. It was mostly men here, with a few women spotted throughout. One girl with the most gorgeous, long blond hair Casey had ever seen on a woman’s head, was seated on the arm of the largest leather couch, wearing a sparkling red dress. The heels she wore had long, thin spikes, looking too flimsy to support more than a pound’s worth of weight. But when she stood to go over to another group of guys standing close to the TV area, she walked without any issue whatsoever…
“Case? Hey, Casey?”
Snapping out of it, Casey jerked his head to look to Jeremy, who was grinning wide. “Oh, what? Sorry, was…” he went to say, but the boy chuckled and turned to the others.
“He’s probably taking pictures in his head. That’s what he does, everywhere we go.” He nudged Casey’s arm with his, saying, “I was just asking if you want to go downstairs, check out Thomas’ game-room?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure, sounds fun,” he said.
“Let’s go, then. Last I knew, Sarah was collecting players for a game of ‘Hold ‘Em’. Just like the girl… she’ll be emptying every wallet that dares come close enough to the table,” Thomas said while leading the way past the bar and to the top of a stairwell.
“Hey, I gave her a bit of competition… the last time we played,” Jeremy said.
“If you call ‘competition’ winning one hand for two hundred then losing three and three-k, then yeah, you’re a real shark to contend with,” Thomas teased.
“She lucked every fuckin’ ‘river’ that came out, I would’ve owned her ass otherwise!” Jeremy said past embarrassed chuckling.
‘Three grand?’ Casey’s brain was stuck on the high figure as they descended stairs which had to be cut from marble, with each step gleaming with mottled white and black stone streaks. The large, dark-wood door ahead was propped open, showing off a preview of everything lying past it. “Didn’t know you were a betting-man,” Casey finally couldn’t help himself from saying, hoping his smile kept any ‘what the fuck, three grand??’ feelings he had hidden.
“Eh, win some, lose some,” Jeremy replied, shrugging. “Might play a hand or two-that is, if you’d be so kind to stick close for luck, blow on my cards?”
Casey made a quirky grin and shook his head, making Jeremy chuckle and go from hand-holding to throwing his arm over Casey’s shoulders. As unfamiliar as the settings were, it felt good in knowing Jeremy was there to make sure everyone knew that Casey did have a place here. Somehow.
~*~