TS: Where The Ocean Is Deep (1/8)
(See here for notes and summary.)
WHERE THE OCEAN IS DEEP
"An hour," Hank repeated, for what must've been the tenth time today.
Joey folded up another pair of jeans and tried not to smirk. Hank was pissed enough as it was; no point to yanking his chain. Not that this stopped Billy.
"Yes, Hank, we're leaving in -" Billy looked at his watch and mimed shock, "-eighteen minutes for Maine."
"Fuck off." Hank threw a t-shirt at Billy. "I'm saying it doesn't make sense. What, did Snuffy blow Parker to get you guys off campus that quickly?"
Billy threw the t-shirt back - must've been one of Phil's - and Phil snickered from where he was lying on his bed, flipping through a magazine. "Maybe he's got blackmail photos," he said.
"Yeah, right," Billy shot back, stuffing one last pair of socks into his bag. "If anybody had pictures of Parker with a goat, it'd be me, and I don't."
Phil shook his head and huffed something kinda like another laugh, but didn't say anything. Hank shrugged and looked away for a second, while Billy went back to trying to get his bag to zip and Joey tucked his toothbrush into a side pocket of his bag. Jeans, socks, shirts, sweatshirts, jacket ready to put on - "Ric's meeting us at the car, right?"
"An hour," Hank muttered, yet again. "An hour after classes end."
"Hey, look on the bright side," Billy suggested, looking up from his bag again with way too cheerful a grin. "You get to enjoy the caf's idea of dinner one more time. Hey, Joey, you think we can get lobster tonight?"
"Yeah, sure," Phil said, before Joey could say anything. "You can eat lobster while you freeze your balls off. It's March."
"We're not gonna spend all our time outside," Joey pointed out. He didn't say stop being a jealous fuckhead, because Phil really wasn't being that bad. He couldn't come because of "family obligations", whatever that meant, a grandmother's birthday party or something. Hank was being worse: he couldn't come because his grades sucked bad enough that he was ordered home over the break to get yelled at. Still didn't give him any excuse to act like a shit.
"We didn't think you were gonna walk there," Hank said, rolling his eyes and throwing something at Joey this time.
Joey ducked, not quite quickly enough, and got hit on the shoulder with...what the hell? "Hank," he said carefully, staring down at a Special Economy Pak of Trojans, "do I want to know what you're suggesting?"
"I'm trying to be a nice guy," Hank said, folding his hands back behind his head. "Soon as I get home, I'm gonna be locked in my room. You, even if you're going to Maine, have a better chance than I do."
"What?" Billy finally got the zipper closed on his bag with a final yank. "You think Joey's the only guy who's gonna get laid?"
He hadn't sounded like he was pissed, but Phil snickered anyway. "Joey'll be able to find the condoms in his stuff quicker than you could."
"Hey!" Joey automatically tucked the condoms away in an outer pocket, frowning at Phil. Yeah, Billy left shit out, but he always knew where that shit was. If that was supposed to be a joke, it didn't work.
Billy punched him in the arm, getting his attention. "Either that or Hank really does think you're the only guy who's going to get laid." Hank snorted at that, but Billy ignored him magnificently as he scooped up his bag. "C'mon, Joey. See ya, gentlemen."
Joey waited until the door closed behind them before he said, "You are so fucking full of it."
Billy grinned over at him, maneuvering himself and his bag around a curious sophomore. "What?"
"Phil's right," Joey reminded him, shrugging his own bag into a more comfortable position. "Maine in March isn't the place for hot babes in bikinis."
"We're not going there for babes," Billy protested. "We're going there for, uh-" A wave of his hand, as if he was improvising, which Joey suspected he was, "-lobster. Besides, maybe Maine girls are hot."
And the northern girls, with the way they kiss, they keep their boyfriends warm at night... Shit, he'd listened to Billy's oldies once too often. Ric cracked up at "California Girls", so that particular tape got played almost as much as Joshua Tree. "Like I can see through the coats," Joey said, trying for grumpy. "I'm gonna see more of you guys than I am of any girl."
He bit his tongue soon as he said it. Not that it wasn't true, just that...it was true. Ric had no body shyness (he said it was a West Coast thing), and Snuffy just didn't give a damn. Billy...shit. Sometimes he wondered if Billy didn't give a damn either, or if he liked showing off. He'd looked a few times, out of the corner of his eye, and he'd bet money that if anybody got laid on this trip, it'd be Billy Tepper.
"Yeah, but you see us all the time." Billy's voice echoed a bit: he was jogging ahead of Joey, down the stairs to the door. Joey hurried up: if Billy knew what he'd been thinking, he couldn't guess from tone of voice, and he couldn't fucking see Billy's face. Billy glanced back as they reached the door, and grinned at him, ordinary cheerful grin. "You gotta go for a little variety."
"I'm gonna be stuck in a car with you for the next week," Joey said, trying not to laugh - he could see Snuffy standing by the car, arms folded and foot tapping, and you didn't piss off your driver this early on in the trip. "What variety?"
Billy just laughed and went around to the back of the car, slinging his bag down off his shoulder. Snuffy had the trunk popped open, so they could just throw their shit in. Snuffy himself didn't even go look to see what Billy'd brought: he just frowned at Joey. "Variety? Excuse me, what am I, chopped liver?"
"Yes," Joey said.
Billy peered around the trunk-top. "We see you every day," he said, in that oh-so-reasonable tone of voice he used right before things got really outrageous. "It's not exactly new and different."
"Maybe he's saying he'll look different," Joey suggested, tossing his bag in Billy's direction. He missed - this was really the wrong angle to go throwing stuff around - but Billy ducked back and grabbed Joey's bag, pausing long enough to give Snuffy a long, considering look.
"I'll look - asshole. I'm not gonna drive you anywhere if you don't shut up." Snuffy threw a tape at Joey, then stalked over to the door and peered up the stairway. "Where's Ric?"
"How the fuck would we know?" Joey said absently, looking over the tape. A mix tape. A Broadway mix tape. "Are we gonna have to listen to this shit all the way up to Maine?"
"Yes, you will," Snuffy said tartly. "It'll be good for you. What'd you bring, that chick rock you don't listen to?"
"Hey, lay off him," Billy said unexpectedly, slamming the trunk shut. "He didn't even bring any of that."
"Hah." Snuffy looked back up the stairway again, then arranged himself in the doorway so Ric would have to practically trip over him to get out. "What did you bring?"
"Nothing you'd appreciate," Joey said. He wasn't entirely sure of that. Snuffy would hate the Haydn string quartets: he claimed classical music put him to sleep (although, as Billy had pointed out one really late night, that didn't stop him from liking Phantom of the Opera, which was all, well, opera: Snuffy had attacked him with a pillow.) He probably wouldn't like the Enigma album either, even if it was getting some radio play; "too quiet" or just "too weird". But he might like Flood. Some of the songs on that were nearly as off-the-wall as Billy's Weird Al shit. He'd left his copy of Joshua Tree at home, and Phil wasn't going to let them run off with his copy for a week, so that wasn't even a choice. Damn.
Billy came around the car again and caught Joey's eye, shrugging as if to say, What's with him this time? He had both his tapes and Joey's in one hand, and leaned up against the car next to Joey, absently flipping through them. Joey blinked, and peered over his shoulder. Billy knew what Joey had brought - they'd figured out what they'd bring a couple days ago - so either Billy was up to something, or he was just posing. Or maybe both. Joey leaned in closer, partially to keep a better eye on Billy and partially because, even with a good jacket, it was freezing out. Where the hell was Ric?
"If it's too weird," Snuffy said suddenly, "I won't play it." He gave them both his best intimidating look. It wasn't very.
"You're not gonna be the only one driving," Billy pointed out, way too cheerfully for Joey's peace of mind. He'd done something. Without me? Fuck, man... Shit. Nah, he'd save it for after they were on their way, and ask him straight out. Billy might fake it to the dean - some of the time - but he never lied to any of the guys.
"That doesn't mean I'm gonna - There you are!" Snuffy straightened up and glowered into the stairwell. "I said one hour after classes, douchebag."
"It's four-thirty now. That's an hour." Ric vaulted over Snuffy's legs and jogged over to the trunk, frowning at it. "Hi, guys."
Joey nodded hi, and Billy pushed away from the car to go...help Ric with his bags, figure out how to re-open the trunk, Joey didn't know what. Ric only had two small bags, so it couldn't be that. Snuffy followed Ric. "Classes end at 3:15, Mr. Montoya, not whenever you got out of your little conference with your teacher. The point is to avoid traffic - you know, the idea of getting to Maine some time this year?"
Billy glanced up, eyes just barely visible over the re-opened trunk, and caught Joey's gaze, like he wanted to ask what crawled up Snuffy's shorts? Joey could only shake his head and watch Snuffy warily. Fifteen minutes wasn't so much - fuck, if you wanted to be that careful about it, he and Billy had been a couple minutes late themselves. This was gonna be an interesting ride in all the wrong kind of ways.
"We're going to Maine," Ric said, slamming the trunk shut again. "We're not going into Boston. Calm down, Snuffy."
"Fuck you and get in the car," Snuffy said.
Joey had thought Ric would call shotgun. Instead, he wound up in the front seat, with Ric behind him asking if he could maybe pull his seat forward. Joey gritted his teeth and said, as patiently as he could manage (which wasn't very by now), "No. Any further forward and I'm gonna have my knees jammed under my chin, asshole."
Billy snickered, but Snuffy glowered over at him like Joey had called his mom names. "Excuse me for not having a fucking limousine."
That was it - Joey reached to undo his seatbelt buckle. He was gonna get the fuck out -
A hand on his arm, holding him still. "Nobody's blaming you for the car," Billy said, sounding pretty damn annoyed himself. "Jesus, you've been hanging around Hank too much."
"He's my fucking roommate," Snuffy said.
He sounded more sulky than pissed this time. Joey made himself relax and let go of his seatbelt. "Jeez, Snuffy, we're not even on the road yet. What crawled up your ass?"
"Nothing! We're running late!" Snuffy said, and started the car. Billy's hand stayed on Joey's arm for a second longer, then dropped away.
They drove past a couple guys, on their way off campus - didn't drive them off the road, although given how tense Snuffy's hands were on the wheel, Joey wouldn't have bet against it. One of 'em just nodded to them. The other, a senior Joey sorta recognized - Tom something -- had been strolling up one side of the road, on his way back from the weight room maybe. He yelled something rude after them as they drove past, too muffled to really catch the words. Billy didn't yell back. In fact, everyone was really quiet. Joey sighed, quietly, and leaned back in his seat. Fuck. This was supposed to be an escape, not another prison.
Five minutes, maybe, on the main road (Joey had his eyes on the clock, or else he'd have said more like ten or fifteen), and Snuffy was frowning at street-signs.
"Billy, the map's under my seat. Get it out and hand it up to Joey."
Billy shrugged - Joey could see the movement out of the corner of his eye - and did so.
"We're going as far as Portland tonight, right?"
"With a stop for supper," Ric put in, as Joey got the map unfolded. Let's see, they had to be around here...
"Well, first we have to get to Maine," Snuffy said, all huffy.
Joey looked up from the map - this was the fun part, translating the map to the streets. Wait, there was a sign "TO 495", that might help... "Which means we're going thataway," he said, nodding toward the sign.
"What way?" Snuffy said. "Shit!" He hit the brakes hard as the light right ahead of them turned from yellow to red.
Right. Nah. Too easy. "Thataway," Joey said helpfully, pointing.
Snuffy slumped into his seat, muttering something mostly under his breath about "wiseass" and "never gonna get out of Massachusetts." Billy, on the other hand, grinned - Joey could see it in the rearview mirror - and leaned forward far enough to smack Joey on the head. "Pay attention to the map," he said cheerfully. "You're supposed to be navigating."
"I am," Joey protested, rattling the map in front of him, as Ric said, "Um, Billy, I think you should be wearing your seatbelt."
Snuffy moaned and laid his head on the steering wheel. Joey bit his tongue - oh, God, we really aren't gonna get to Maine at this rate, we're gonna have to just drive around Massachusetts in circles - and Billy laughed outright. "You see any cops around here? Let me worry about that."
The highway wasn't actually all that far away. Maybe five miles. The stoplights slowed them down, and the atmosphere in the car still wasn't calm or happy or even really vacation-ish. They passed a Star Market with a clapboard sign out front, something about the weekly sale. Ric craned his neck at it as they passed.
"Hey, slow down."
"The only thing they've got on sale are grainy apples, Ric," Billy pointed out.
"I thought it was Granny apples," Joey said.
"This time of year? Grainy. Trust me."
"Since when are you an apple expert, Billy?" Snuffy couldn't actually throw anything at Billy, but he glared at the rear-view mirror as if he'd like to. Which made everyone shut up for at least the next mile or so, until they ran into some road construction (who the fuck did road construction in March? Except the state of Massachusetts, apparently) and Billy and Ric started talking about construction workers, something like that, too quietly for Joey to hear them. Bastards.
Finally they reached the highway (which, despite all Snuffy's nerves, wasn't rush-hour heavy traffic at all, not the direction they were going). "Here we are," Joey said, trying to fold up the map the same way he'd got it and failing. "On our way at last."
"Hoo-fucking-ray," Billy said, with a roll of his eyes that Joey really hoped was meant for Snuffy having been an asshole for the last half-hour. "Hey, put some music on."
Ric rolled his eyes too, and muttered, not quite quietly enough, "Gotta be better than listening to Snuffy any more."
Aw, shit, no... Snuffy either hadn't heard that or it hadn't registered yet. Before it could do so, Joey grabbed the tape Billy dropped into his hand and popped it into the tape player, and heard the slinky slide guitar and bass harmonica that opened "That's Not Her Style." Billy Joel. Distraction, huh? He cranked the volume.
Nobody else said anything through most of the song either, though Joey could see Billy out of the corner of his eye, tapping his foot to the beat, and Snuffy nodded his head in time to the drums and guitar, mouthing the words to the steering wheel.
Papers say she was seen in LA with a stranger... Joey grinned out at the road. Distraction, oh yeah. Trust Billy to know what to do before they just gave up and went back to Regis. He pressed his fingers into his legs, trying to figure out the fingering for the guitar for the lead break.
I read where it's said-
"-that she sleeps in a bed made of satin!" Snuffy had a pretty good singing voice, but a lot more Elton John than Billy Joel. Joey had the sudden mental image of Snuffy in sequins and peacock feathers. He made the mistake of meeting Billy's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and saw the same thought in them. Both of them burst out laughing, with Ric joining in. Snuffy just kept singing along, throwing his voice up to falsetto: "...just not her style, I can tell you, 'cause I am her man!"
As the song wound down to fade-out, Joey clapped. "Nice job, Snuffy," he said. "Except you aren't Billy Joel, and who wants satin sheets?"
Snuffy turned down Billy Joel, who was singing about North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe. "If some gorgeous lady asks me to share her bed and she has satin sheets," he said smugly, "you can turn her down if you want, but I won't."
"Um, Snuffy?" Joey said carefully. "I don't wanna share a girl with you. Even a gorgeous lady with satin sheets."
"What if she doesn't have satin sheets?" Billy said, leaning in toward the front seats again. "Or if you really don't want satin sheets, you could ask her. 'Scuse me, babe, hold that thought, just lemme change the sheets to cotton.'"
Joey tried to imagine Billy asking a theoretical gorgeous chick to change her sheets. This immediately led to a mental picture of Billy sprawled out on now-cotton sheets, smiling up at Joey - no. Smiling at the chick. Where the fuck was his mind going? Billy wouldn't be smiling up at Joey unless they were sharing some chick, and even with Billy, Joey couldn't imagine sharing.
Sharing the girl, or sharing Billy?
Oh God. He should've just stayed at Regis.
"It is tricky, though," Ric said, totally oblivious to where Joey's mind had wandered. "A friend of one of my cousins got black satin sheets for his birthday. When he brought his girlfriend back to his place, she couldn't stay on the bed. Just kept sliding off."
Right. Sliding off the bed. Much better mental image, Joey told himself firmly. "Not like you can ask on a first date, 'Do you have satin sheets?'" he said aloud.
"Yeah, well. Lots of things you can't ask on a first date," Billy put in thoughtfully. He shrugged when Joey looked back at him curiously. "I don't know - like, do you dress your poodle in funny clothes? Do you shave?"
"'Do you like to give head?'" Joey suggested.
"'Do you like it on top?'" Ric said.
Snuffy laughed at that one. "Hey, hey!" He waggled his eyebrows at Ric in the rear-view mirror (not paying any attention to the road, to Joey's mild alarm). "Those California debutantes must be more, uh, laid-back than I thought."
Ric grimaced, leaning in toward the break in the front seat himself. "Yeah, right. I don't think I could ask that on the tenth date. It's all I can do to be allowed to walk around, holding her hand. Feels like I'm back in elementary school."
"Holding her hand?" Billy repeated incredulously. "Not even a kiss? Fuck, Ric -"
"Hey, in elementary school, holding hands was a big step," Snuffy said. Ric sagged backwards into his seat, covering his face with his hands, and Joey bit his tongue on the impulse to laugh himself. "Back when I was that young, I wouldn't even let anyone see me hold hands."
Joey tilted his head, giving Snuffy his best imitation of that 'you're gonna explain this, right?' look that Billy did really well. "Why not?"
"I'll have you know I had a reputation to protect," Snuffy said gravely.
"What reputation?" Ric demanded, uncovering his face.
"I know," Billy said. "Snuffy Bradberry, thrower of crayons."
"Eater of paste," Joey added.
"Wiper of snot!" Ric was grinning now.
"Fuck you all," Snuffy said. "I'm gonna just leave you all in Maine, I hope you know that."
"Yeah, right," Joey said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "You're gonna turn this car right around." This was more like it. Everything's gonna be fine. They were gonna have a perfect week.
"So long as we stop in Freeport first," Billy said, leaning into the front seats - Joey could feel the pressure against his shoulder. "You wouldn't believe the shit you can buy at L.L. Bean."
***
The Portland Regency Hotel looked...cute. It had trees, and a front courtyard with a dolphin statue in it. The dolphin looked like it was frolicking, for fuck's sake. If you looked up through the leaves, you could see a carved thing up near the roof that said ARMORY, but other than that, nothing. Shit. Billy'd been hoping for at least crenellations. He'd seen an old armory once along the Pike that looked like a medieval castle, not that Disney shit but something real, squat and defensible. With crenellations. This just looked like a hotel.
Joey rocked back on his heels and looked up at it anyway, like it was actually worth looking at. Maybe something about the trees, or the fading twilight. Snuffy had his head buried in the trunk, hauling out all the luggage and handing it off to the bellhop who'd appeared out of nowhere (unless he was the parking valet - part of the reason Billy picked this hotel was because it had valet parking, which meant not having to drive around Portland for two fucking hours trying to find parking near a hotel). Ric just looked around uncertainly, then craned his neck to look up. "Armory," he said. "Doesn't look like one."
"It's pretty recent," Billy said, trying not to sound like some kind of half-assed tour guide. "Maybe a hundred years old." The booking people on the phone had made a big deal about how it was made a National Historic Something last year - he'd wanted to tell that to Joey, too, maybe showing off a little, but not when the hotel looked like this. Last time he'd believe something in a guidebook.
"It's boring," Snuffy said, slamming the trunk shut again. "If we're gonna sleep in an armory, I want at least some armor."
Ric punched him in the arm. "It's an armory, not a castle."
"Looks pretty hotel-ish to me," Joey said dubiously.
Billy snuck a look over at him, and caught Joey looking back, with a sort of apologetic smile, like he'd known Billy picked this place to...amuse him. Well, amuse Snuffy, anyway, and maybe Ric, but he'd been mostly hoping Joey would like it. "Probably better that way," Billy said aloud, pushing Joey lightly toward the entrance. Joey let himself be pushed. "Unless you really want to sleep on gun racks."
The inside looked even more hotel-ish than the outside: all crystal chandeliers and elaborate flower arrangements and the same dark red carpet that Billy would swear every single high-end hotel in the fucking world had, maybe because they all thought it looked elegant. The guy behind the concierge desk wore a tie but no jacket, neat haircut, neat clothing, boring as holy fuck. He looked right through Billy.
"Hello, how may I help you?"
Billy bit his tongue on the impulse to say something, not sure what. Something that might crack that blank, condescending politeness. Flutter his eyelashes and say, Yes, can you recommend a good dining establishment? Except that would probably just piss the guy off, and he'd lose their reservation. And the guys...well, Snuffy would laugh, if he weren't still cranky from the drive, and Ric would just blink, but Joey...no. Really not worth it, not if Joey wouldn't laugh. Instead, Billy said, in the voice he kept for dealing with parents and schoolteachers, "Reservation, name of Tepper."
The guy's eyes actually focused on him for a second, instead of looking through him. Then he looked away at his computer, tapped a few keys, and actually thawed enough to smile, just a little. "Of course, Mr. Tepper. If I might see your credit card?" Billy handed it over, which led to more key-tapping. Billy glanced over at Joey, grinning despite himself - hey, suckered another one! Joey caught the look and grinned back with a shake of his head, like he couldn't believe Billy got away with it.
"Room 412," the guy said, looking up again. Billy hastily wiped the grin off his face. "Here is your credit card, and your keys. Shall I have the bell bring up your luggage?"
Billy shrugged. "Please."
None of the guys said anything until they'd moved away from the desk, out of earshot. Then Ric stopped short and glanced back over his shoulder at the bellhop, who was loading up their baggage onto one of those cart things. "Um, Billy, what's with the bellhop? We could bring up our own stuff."
"Because it's nearly seven and I'm fucking starving." Regis served lunch at noon, dinner at five, and Billy hadn't noticed any of them chowing down at lunch. He found himself looking at Joey, not Ric, as he answered. Ric didn't have any secrets to keep. Joey was the one who knew exactly which stuff in their dorm room was his, and where it was, and bit Phil's head off if he went looking in the wrong pile.
Joey looked back for a second, then shrugged as if it didn't matter. "You got a place in mind?"
Shit. Hadn't pissed Joey off, but...ah, fuck it, he'd fucked up. Especially since he didn't have a place in mind. Billy glanced around, then said, "Well, there's this place in the hotel..."
The restaurant was more bland than the hotel, not even a frolicking dolphin. A few old pictures of this place from back when it was an armory, gray carpet, wallpaper that looked like a reject from an Oriental carpet factory. Same shit, different day. Maybe the food would be good to make up for it...except that looking over the menu, he was gonna have to point and guess. Lobster stew, goat cheese mushroom ravioli. They had plain lobster, too, but he wanted to save that for later in the trip. Didn't they have anything normal?
"I don't think we're gonna get up that far, Snuffy."
Billy lowered his menu. Snuffy had a big-ass guidebook - how the fuck hadn't he noticed that under Snuffy's arm? - out flat next to his place, and Joey was peering at the map with a little grin. Billy cleared his throat warily. "What?"
Snuffy looked up, and pulled the guidebook a little closer to him, eyes flickering from Billy to Ric as if he expected them to start throwing spitballs. "I'm just trying to plan ahead!"
Ric coughed and put down his water. "Snuffy, half that shit's closed because it's not summer."
"At least it says so here," Snuffy said defensively. "That's better than 'let's just follow signs'."
Which was what Ric had been suggesting on the way up - Don't they have stuff marked with signs by the highway? Well, maybe in California, they did. Out here, Billy didn't figure their chances were any better than fifty-fifty. "What about other places?"
Snuffy let the guidebook drop back to the table and gave him his best attempt at a raised-eyebrow, "I'm waiting for an explanation, Mr. Tepper" imitation-Parker look, which might've worked except it was Snuffy. Ric, who'd been about to pick up his menu, let it go and asked curiously, "What other places?" And Joey smiled - just a little smile, nothing Snuffy or Ric would even notice. Of course, Joey had helped him dig up a good guidebook, and heard him on the phone asking about Portland hotels and shit, and covered for him when Parker started asking questions about library and phone time. But Joey didn't say, 'What did you find out?' or anything that would give Billy away. Well, any more away than a hotel reservation could do. Instead, he gave Billy that quiet smile, just for him, and said, "Like L.L. Bean?"
Before Billy could answer, their waiter finally showed up - dressed in black and white, old enough to be his father, except he didn't even have Jim Tepper's fake blue-collar grin.
"Good evening, gentlemen. A drink to start you off?" His eyes lingered on Joey's faded black sweatshirt and Ric's purple pullover...thing.
Snuffy opened his mouth, shut it again, then said, "Um, Pepsi."
"7-Up."
"Iced tea."
Billy looked down at the list of drinks, and opened his mouth to say Chardonnay. Before he could, Joey kicked him under the table. Billy bit his tongue, looked up at the waiter again, and said, "Pepsi."
Once the waiter was gone, Snuffy put down the menu he'd been hiding behind and grinned at Billy. "What, didn't feel like pushing your luck?"
Too damn far away to kick Snuffy - besides, he might miss and kick Ric, who always sprawled. Billy glared at him. No, Joey didn't, stop fucking kicking me- No. That guy wasn't the kind who'd just say may I see some ID, ah, well, we can't sell to you in that case. Too stiff and sour for that. Shit. "No, I'm saving it up for next week," Billy said instead, then pointedly turned to Joey. "I didn't mean L.L. Bean either - I meant the Desert of Maine."
Joey frowned, but in a maybe-interested kind of way, thinking about it. Snuffy, on the other hand, stared and said, "The what?"
"No, really, it's a desert." Did they have a flyer or some shit like that? He'd have to check the racks out in the lobby after dinner. He'd read about it in Ripley's Believe It Or Not, which wasn't exactly helpful with directions or anything like that. "It's a really, really small fucking desert, but it's a desert."
"Still might be closed," Joey pointed out. But his eyes were cloudy and absent, as if he were trying to picture a desert in Maine.
"So we'll find someplace else if it is," Billy said, leaning forward. He could improvise. He was good at improvising. "The state's lousy with art museums."
Snuffy snickered again from behind his menu. "You sure know how to show a guy a good time."
For a second, Billy thought Joey was going to snap at Snuffy - not that the fucker didn't deserve it, after having been a prick for the entire drive up. But instead Joey let out his breath again and picked up his own menu. "Shut up, Snuffy."
The waiter appeared with their drinks in another minute or two, soda round glasses that looked almost but not quite like wine glasses after all. Joey picked out the lemon from his iced tea and sucked at it - not like a tease, like...someone who liked lemon. Billy realized he was staring, and looked down at the menu again. Once the guy took their orders (seafood all around - no lobster, though, nobody in the mood for it or something), he vanished again and they were left just sort of sitting there, Snuffy staring down at the guidebook next to his plate, Ric buttering a roll, and Joey looking around the place like he might want to draw it. Fat chance, in Billy's opinion. Nothing worth drawing here.
"There's a couple railroad museums," Snuffy said abruptly.
"Snuffy!" All three together, but what else was there to say?
Snuffy let the guidebook slap closed, looking around at them earnestly. "Look, I like you guys, but I don't want to spend all my time in the car with you."
"So how about we check out the lobby?" Billy suggested. "There's shitloads of pamphlet stuff out there." Maybe not for the Desert of Maine, but there had to be other shit too. He hadn't brought along the guidebook he'd used for research, and the four or five things he'd picked out weren't gonna fill the whole week.
"Vacation by pamphlet?" Ric said dubiously.
"You were the one who suggested vacation by highway sign," Joey pointed out.
"You're not helping," Snuffy said, and opened the guidebook again. "We actually went past some stuff, so if there's anything open we're gonna have to double back-"
Billy tuned him out - they'd had this discussion in the car on the way here, and it hadn't been all that interesting then. Still wasn't anything to look at in the restaurant, nothing to talk about - well, maybe with Joey, but Joey was listening to Snuffy go on about the shit in his guidebook, and Billy wasn't gonna just interrupt that because he felt...whatever this was. Not quite bored. It took a while to work up to bored. Restless, maybe. What the fuck was that music they were playing, anyway? He didn't see any kind of live performers, so they must be piping it over some kind of sound system. Something with piano, sorta classical. Dull. At least Joey's operas had the occasional fortissimo to liven things up. Where did they pipe the music from, anyway? Did they run it from some kind of central room in the hotel, or was it closer to the restaurant? Had to be a way to track it down, somehow - and if he could track it down, he could get in. Maybe swap the tape of boring classical music for something more interesting. He could just picture the expressions on that snobby waiter's face if "I Go To Extremes" came blasting out of the hidden speakers.
"Billy?" Punch to his arm - Joey, who'd noticed he was thinking too hard. "Yo, Billy."
"What?" Snuffy put down the guidebook again, looking back and forth between them, forehead wrinkled. Ric put down his glass, looking just as confused.
Joey didn't look confused. He had a soft, conspiratorial smile. "What?" he said quietly.
Billy grinned back at him - of course Joey knew what he was thinking, Joey always knew -- and said innocently, "Just thinking about the music."
"Oh, no." Ric glanced nervously back over his shoulder, like he thought hotel security was lurking just beyond their table. "If you get us kicked out of the hotel -"
"I wouldn't get us kicked out!" Jesus fuck, what did Ric think he was, an amateur? "Have a little faith, wouldja?"
The waiter showed up with their meals not two minutes later - Ric jumped when the guy cleared his throat behind him. He didn't relax again until the waiter had laid out the way-too-many-plates (hadn't they ever heard of putting everything on one plate? Billy didn't envy whoever had to wash the dishes here, that was for sure) and gone away again.
The food, in Billy's opinion, wasn't worth relaxing over. Snuffy's fried calamari appetizer ("Snuffy, why would you want to eat squid?") had shown up at the same time as the rest of the shit, so the table was covered: way too easy to knock something over, just on accident. Ric's pasta was the only really decent size serving there - well, Joey had three or four slices of fish, swimming in some kind of fancy sauce, and his own 'surf and turf' turned out to be a really small steak with way too few shrimp beside it. Big shrimp, but it was the principle of the thing.
Joey looked from his plate to Billy's, then snatched one of the shrimp. "Taste test," he said, and tugged off the shell and popped it into his mouth, the whole thing. His chewing slowed after a second, and his eyes half-closed.
Billy remembered, belatedly, to close his mouth and stop fucking staring. So Joey liked the shrimp. Good. Good shrimp. Didn't mean he had to stare at Joey, just because Joey was, uh...really...enjoying...aw, fuck it. He grabbed his fork, and leaned over to neatly poke off a section of fish. "That's my excuse." Mmm, the fish wasn't too bad, either. Sauce was a bit strong, too cheesy, but nothing to make him moan.
Snuffy rolled his eyes. "Since when do you two wait for excuses?" He picked up his own fork, and neatly snitched out a shrimp from Ric's seafood fettuccini.
Ric blinked down at his plate, then over at Snuffy's, and said indignantly, "Hey!"
"So snitch something of his," Joey suggested.
Ric eyed Snuffy's plate warily. "Not if it means eating squid."
Snuffy wound up eating all his own squid, occasionally making nummy noises that made Joey laugh and Ric cough because he was trying not to laugh. They didn't talk much, beyond the occasional, "Well, we could -" and the immediate, "Shut up, Snuffy!" By the time Billy finished chasing the last cherry tomato from his salad, Snuffy was listening to the wanna-be classical music and trying to convince Joey that it must be Italian and he should recognize the composer, despite Joey's pointing out that it wasn't opera or on guitar, which were the two areas where he might recognize classical music, and anyway why should he give a shit about what music a hotel restaurant played? Billy grinned, popped the tomato into his mouth, and looked over at Ric, who was...way the hell off in his own little world. What the fuck? "Ric?"
"Huh?"
Billy waved his hand in front of Ric's eyes. "Earth to Ricardo Montoya.."
Ric finally blinked and looked away. "I'm fine." He was sorta flushed, like he was embarrassed. Hmmm.
Billy looked over in the direction Ric had been looking - well, more like staring. The maitre'd had just settled a large group around a table over there, still mostly involved in getting their coats off and settling who was sitting where and does everyone have a menu. Pretty obvious where Ric was staring, though - not the tall bearded guy dressed like a lumberjack. "The blonde?" She was cute enough. Short, bouncy, wearing pink. Not his type.
He hadn't lowered his voice. Joey abandoned his one-sided conversation with Snuffy to look over in the same direction, as Ric slid lower in his seat and said, not as quietly as he probably thought, "Shut up, she'll notice."
Joey turned back, grinning - not his usual quiet smile, but a wide grin like he wanted to laugh. "She hasn't," he said. "But her girlfriend has."
Girlfriend? Billy looked back, and this time he spotted the short-haired brunette sitting right next to the blonde, watching Ric with narrowed, jealous eyes. Holy shit. No wonder Ric never got any farther than holding hands: Billy'd known Ric's gaydar sucked (didn't even pick up on Snuffy, who swished like a new broom when he thought he could get away with it, much less Billy himself), but this...aw, man. He felt almost sorry for the poor guy. Almost.
He'd been staring too long himself: the brunette looked over at him, raising one eyebrow coolly. Billy grinned, and raised his water glass in a silent toast. The brunette blinked, momentarily confused, and the blonde next to her sat up straighter, with a "Hey!" that Billy could hear even over here.
When he looked back at his own table, Ric looked nearly as confused as the brunette. Snuffy just shook his head, eying the other table curiously. "Billy, what are you doing?"
Billy shrugged - if Snuffy couldn't figure it out, he wasn't gonna tell him - and met Joey's eyes. Joey's grin hadn't faded. "If they come after you," he said gently, "we're not gonna help you."
"What makes you think I'd want help?" Reflex answer, something to make Ric laugh and Joey raise his eyebrows in that skeptical expression. If the girls really did come over, then he'd have to make something up, because this wasn't an old black-and-white movie and he hadn't meant any kind of flirtation. Well, not much. If he was gonna flirt with anyone -
Stop that right there, Billy Tepper. You're treading too close to the edge as it is.
After they paid the bill (Billy paid the polite amount of tip, and only the polite amount of tip), they paused in the hotel lobby to grab fistfuls of pamphlets, pretty much randomly. Joey flipped through them as they walked to the elevator. "Two-story outhouse?" he said doubtfully. "I don't know about you guys, but -"
"We can sort through 'em in the morning," Billy said firmly.
Snuffy punched the call button. "Hey, it's only seven-thirty. We can do it this evening."
"Any more talk about where we're going and I'm gonna smack both of you," Ric said, and that shut everybody up.
This lasted all of maybe five minutes - until they'd reached their room, and Billy convinced the door lock to work. The staff had brought up all their luggage, neatly slotted next to the dresser. Snuffy knelt down next to his suitcase, rummaging for something (his inhaler, maybe, or some kind of medication - Billy didn't know Snuffy's nightly rituals, and didn't care either). Ric located the remote for the TV and sat down at the end of the bed, channel-surfing like a pro. Joey, on the other hand, folded back the coverlet on one bed to expose the pillow, and stood still for a moment, head tilted a little to one side like he was staring at the sheets. Billy leaned in to look over his shoulder. "Cotton."
"Yeah," absently.
Hold that thought, just lemme change the sheets... It was stupid, reckless, skating even closer to the edge than he already was. But he couldn't resist. Billy leaned in closer and whispered into Joey's ear: "Sorry it's not satin."
***
No, the sheets weren't satin. This wasn't some kind of cheap-ass honeymoon hotel in the Poconos, this was a class joint with cotton sheets. Which probably had some superhuman thread count, but still not satin.
Joey turned his head on the pillow. Snuffy and Ric were, so far as he could tell, fast asleep. He couldn't even really see 'em, except as lumps under the blankets in the far bed. Billy was fast asleep, anyway, sprawled out the next pillow over. Dreaming, maybe, though Joey couldn't see to be sure. They'd closed the blinds before going to bed, and not enough light leaked in to really see Billy, not unless he leaned in closer. Lots closer.
Yeah. That was the point, wasn't it.
Usually he could shove the thoughts aside, under whatever else was going on, or just...think about something else, music or school or what Billy'd done with Ric that he hadn't told Joey yet. Fuck. Back to Billy. There were reasons, good reasons, why he hadn't just shoved Billy Tepper up against the wall and kissed him until Billy kissed him back. Reasons like Phil, and schoolwork, and Parker. Reasons like not being completely sure Billy would kiss him back -- ninety percent sure, but not a hundred percent -- or if he'd laugh it off. Reasons like Billy was the best friend he'd ever had, and he'd rather die than fuck that up.
Except every time he stood there and repeated the reasons off to himself, under his breath, one after another, Billy would turn around and look at him from under his eyelashes, trying to talk Joey into doing whatever, or Billy would lean in like he'd never heard of the concept of personal space, or...or Billy would just look at him, really look at him, and for a second, there wasn't anyone else in the whole fucking world.
I want that. He could admit that, couldn't he? It was - fuck, couldn't see the clock, too dark - well, he'd been lying here long enough that it was somewhere between Really Fucking Late and Really Fucking Early. Late enough that he could hear the wind outside the window. Late enough that he didn't give a shit about hot chicks, with or without satin sheets. Just Billy. So fucking easy - all he had to do was reach out. Hell, if he rolled over and started kissing Billy, by the time Billy woke up - they weren't at Regis --
Joey rolled over before he could think about it, away from Billy. No, they weren't at Regis, but they weren't alone either. Not alone enough.
Sorry they're not satin...
Joey squeezed his eyes shut. He'd been half-hard since that whisper in his ear. All he had to do was imagine Billy rolling over, Billy coming to him, and... He gave up and opened his eyes again. Shit. That hadn't helped at all. He should go hide in the bathroom. Or just go jerk off, then maybe he'd be able to come back to bed and sleep. ...the bed he shared with Billy, the bed that Billy was taking up more than his fair half of. Yeah, sure he'd be able to sleep.
The mattress shifted abruptly. Billy turning over in his sleep: Joey could hear the soft sleepy murmur that meant Billy was almost-but-not-quite awake, going back to sleep again. Shit. If he got up now, Billy would wake up all the way, which meant...well, it meant either making fake-sounding excuses and hoping Billy wouldn't push it, or telling Billy some stuff that he didn't want to tell him, not now, not at two AM in a hotel room with friends asleep in the next bed over.
On the other hand...he knew how to be quiet. Billy wouldn't notice; he hadn't before. Joey closed his eyes again, and slid his hand down into his boxers. Think about Billy. Billy and satin sheets, him and Billy at one of those stupid hotels, stuck there for some reason that didn't matter because this was a fantasy. Billy laughing, his head thrown back. Billy sprawled out over the satin sheets, right in the middle of the bed, grinning up at him with that look like there wasn't anyone else in the world. Billy kissing him. Oh, yes, like that - fuck, had to be careful, couldn't move too fast or he'd wake up Billy anyway. Billy sprawling on top of him, whispering in his ear, all sorts of incoherent shit: that Joey was beautiful, that he wanted him, that he'd wanted this so fucking long...Billy hard against him, moving like he couldn't help himself; Billy losing control, out of control, so fucking gone on Joey that he couldn't stop himself or pull back -
Joey came, quick spasm like a punch to the gut. He lay there, trying to catch his breath, hand all sticky, and listened hard. Nothing. Not from the other bed, not from Billy.
He grimaced up at the ceiling. He still had to go to the bathroom. He was not sleeping in wet boxers.
-on to the next part-
WHERE THE OCEAN IS DEEP
"An hour," Hank repeated, for what must've been the tenth time today.
Joey folded up another pair of jeans and tried not to smirk. Hank was pissed enough as it was; no point to yanking his chain. Not that this stopped Billy.
"Yes, Hank, we're leaving in -" Billy looked at his watch and mimed shock, "-eighteen minutes for Maine."
"Fuck off." Hank threw a t-shirt at Billy. "I'm saying it doesn't make sense. What, did Snuffy blow Parker to get you guys off campus that quickly?"
Billy threw the t-shirt back - must've been one of Phil's - and Phil snickered from where he was lying on his bed, flipping through a magazine. "Maybe he's got blackmail photos," he said.
"Yeah, right," Billy shot back, stuffing one last pair of socks into his bag. "If anybody had pictures of Parker with a goat, it'd be me, and I don't."
Phil shook his head and huffed something kinda like another laugh, but didn't say anything. Hank shrugged and looked away for a second, while Billy went back to trying to get his bag to zip and Joey tucked his toothbrush into a side pocket of his bag. Jeans, socks, shirts, sweatshirts, jacket ready to put on - "Ric's meeting us at the car, right?"
"An hour," Hank muttered, yet again. "An hour after classes end."
"Hey, look on the bright side," Billy suggested, looking up from his bag again with way too cheerful a grin. "You get to enjoy the caf's idea of dinner one more time. Hey, Joey, you think we can get lobster tonight?"
"Yeah, sure," Phil said, before Joey could say anything. "You can eat lobster while you freeze your balls off. It's March."
"We're not gonna spend all our time outside," Joey pointed out. He didn't say stop being a jealous fuckhead, because Phil really wasn't being that bad. He couldn't come because of "family obligations", whatever that meant, a grandmother's birthday party or something. Hank was being worse: he couldn't come because his grades sucked bad enough that he was ordered home over the break to get yelled at. Still didn't give him any excuse to act like a shit.
"We didn't think you were gonna walk there," Hank said, rolling his eyes and throwing something at Joey this time.
Joey ducked, not quite quickly enough, and got hit on the shoulder with...what the hell? "Hank," he said carefully, staring down at a Special Economy Pak of Trojans, "do I want to know what you're suggesting?"
"I'm trying to be a nice guy," Hank said, folding his hands back behind his head. "Soon as I get home, I'm gonna be locked in my room. You, even if you're going to Maine, have a better chance than I do."
"What?" Billy finally got the zipper closed on his bag with a final yank. "You think Joey's the only guy who's gonna get laid?"
He hadn't sounded like he was pissed, but Phil snickered anyway. "Joey'll be able to find the condoms in his stuff quicker than you could."
"Hey!" Joey automatically tucked the condoms away in an outer pocket, frowning at Phil. Yeah, Billy left shit out, but he always knew where that shit was. If that was supposed to be a joke, it didn't work.
Billy punched him in the arm, getting his attention. "Either that or Hank really does think you're the only guy who's going to get laid." Hank snorted at that, but Billy ignored him magnificently as he scooped up his bag. "C'mon, Joey. See ya, gentlemen."
Joey waited until the door closed behind them before he said, "You are so fucking full of it."
Billy grinned over at him, maneuvering himself and his bag around a curious sophomore. "What?"
"Phil's right," Joey reminded him, shrugging his own bag into a more comfortable position. "Maine in March isn't the place for hot babes in bikinis."
"We're not going there for babes," Billy protested. "We're going there for, uh-" A wave of his hand, as if he was improvising, which Joey suspected he was, "-lobster. Besides, maybe Maine girls are hot."
And the northern girls, with the way they kiss, they keep their boyfriends warm at night... Shit, he'd listened to Billy's oldies once too often. Ric cracked up at "California Girls", so that particular tape got played almost as much as Joshua Tree. "Like I can see through the coats," Joey said, trying for grumpy. "I'm gonna see more of you guys than I am of any girl."
He bit his tongue soon as he said it. Not that it wasn't true, just that...it was true. Ric had no body shyness (he said it was a West Coast thing), and Snuffy just didn't give a damn. Billy...shit. Sometimes he wondered if Billy didn't give a damn either, or if he liked showing off. He'd looked a few times, out of the corner of his eye, and he'd bet money that if anybody got laid on this trip, it'd be Billy Tepper.
"Yeah, but you see us all the time." Billy's voice echoed a bit: he was jogging ahead of Joey, down the stairs to the door. Joey hurried up: if Billy knew what he'd been thinking, he couldn't guess from tone of voice, and he couldn't fucking see Billy's face. Billy glanced back as they reached the door, and grinned at him, ordinary cheerful grin. "You gotta go for a little variety."
"I'm gonna be stuck in a car with you for the next week," Joey said, trying not to laugh - he could see Snuffy standing by the car, arms folded and foot tapping, and you didn't piss off your driver this early on in the trip. "What variety?"
Billy just laughed and went around to the back of the car, slinging his bag down off his shoulder. Snuffy had the trunk popped open, so they could just throw their shit in. Snuffy himself didn't even go look to see what Billy'd brought: he just frowned at Joey. "Variety? Excuse me, what am I, chopped liver?"
"Yes," Joey said.
Billy peered around the trunk-top. "We see you every day," he said, in that oh-so-reasonable tone of voice he used right before things got really outrageous. "It's not exactly new and different."
"Maybe he's saying he'll look different," Joey suggested, tossing his bag in Billy's direction. He missed - this was really the wrong angle to go throwing stuff around - but Billy ducked back and grabbed Joey's bag, pausing long enough to give Snuffy a long, considering look.
"I'll look - asshole. I'm not gonna drive you anywhere if you don't shut up." Snuffy threw a tape at Joey, then stalked over to the door and peered up the stairway. "Where's Ric?"
"How the fuck would we know?" Joey said absently, looking over the tape. A mix tape. A Broadway mix tape. "Are we gonna have to listen to this shit all the way up to Maine?"
"Yes, you will," Snuffy said tartly. "It'll be good for you. What'd you bring, that chick rock you don't listen to?"
"Hey, lay off him," Billy said unexpectedly, slamming the trunk shut. "He didn't even bring any of that."
"Hah." Snuffy looked back up the stairway again, then arranged himself in the doorway so Ric would have to practically trip over him to get out. "What did you bring?"
"Nothing you'd appreciate," Joey said. He wasn't entirely sure of that. Snuffy would hate the Haydn string quartets: he claimed classical music put him to sleep (although, as Billy had pointed out one really late night, that didn't stop him from liking Phantom of the Opera, which was all, well, opera: Snuffy had attacked him with a pillow.) He probably wouldn't like the Enigma album either, even if it was getting some radio play; "too quiet" or just "too weird". But he might like Flood. Some of the songs on that were nearly as off-the-wall as Billy's Weird Al shit. He'd left his copy of Joshua Tree at home, and Phil wasn't going to let them run off with his copy for a week, so that wasn't even a choice. Damn.
Billy came around the car again and caught Joey's eye, shrugging as if to say, What's with him this time? He had both his tapes and Joey's in one hand, and leaned up against the car next to Joey, absently flipping through them. Joey blinked, and peered over his shoulder. Billy knew what Joey had brought - they'd figured out what they'd bring a couple days ago - so either Billy was up to something, or he was just posing. Or maybe both. Joey leaned in closer, partially to keep a better eye on Billy and partially because, even with a good jacket, it was freezing out. Where the hell was Ric?
"If it's too weird," Snuffy said suddenly, "I won't play it." He gave them both his best intimidating look. It wasn't very.
"You're not gonna be the only one driving," Billy pointed out, way too cheerfully for Joey's peace of mind. He'd done something. Without me? Fuck, man... Shit. Nah, he'd save it for after they were on their way, and ask him straight out. Billy might fake it to the dean - some of the time - but he never lied to any of the guys.
"That doesn't mean I'm gonna - There you are!" Snuffy straightened up and glowered into the stairwell. "I said one hour after classes, douchebag."
"It's four-thirty now. That's an hour." Ric vaulted over Snuffy's legs and jogged over to the trunk, frowning at it. "Hi, guys."
Joey nodded hi, and Billy pushed away from the car to go...help Ric with his bags, figure out how to re-open the trunk, Joey didn't know what. Ric only had two small bags, so it couldn't be that. Snuffy followed Ric. "Classes end at 3:15, Mr. Montoya, not whenever you got out of your little conference with your teacher. The point is to avoid traffic - you know, the idea of getting to Maine some time this year?"
Billy glanced up, eyes just barely visible over the re-opened trunk, and caught Joey's gaze, like he wanted to ask what crawled up Snuffy's shorts? Joey could only shake his head and watch Snuffy warily. Fifteen minutes wasn't so much - fuck, if you wanted to be that careful about it, he and Billy had been a couple minutes late themselves. This was gonna be an interesting ride in all the wrong kind of ways.
"We're going to Maine," Ric said, slamming the trunk shut again. "We're not going into Boston. Calm down, Snuffy."
"Fuck you and get in the car," Snuffy said.
Joey had thought Ric would call shotgun. Instead, he wound up in the front seat, with Ric behind him asking if he could maybe pull his seat forward. Joey gritted his teeth and said, as patiently as he could manage (which wasn't very by now), "No. Any further forward and I'm gonna have my knees jammed under my chin, asshole."
Billy snickered, but Snuffy glowered over at him like Joey had called his mom names. "Excuse me for not having a fucking limousine."
That was it - Joey reached to undo his seatbelt buckle. He was gonna get the fuck out -
A hand on his arm, holding him still. "Nobody's blaming you for the car," Billy said, sounding pretty damn annoyed himself. "Jesus, you've been hanging around Hank too much."
"He's my fucking roommate," Snuffy said.
He sounded more sulky than pissed this time. Joey made himself relax and let go of his seatbelt. "Jeez, Snuffy, we're not even on the road yet. What crawled up your ass?"
"Nothing! We're running late!" Snuffy said, and started the car. Billy's hand stayed on Joey's arm for a second longer, then dropped away.
They drove past a couple guys, on their way off campus - didn't drive them off the road, although given how tense Snuffy's hands were on the wheel, Joey wouldn't have bet against it. One of 'em just nodded to them. The other, a senior Joey sorta recognized - Tom something -- had been strolling up one side of the road, on his way back from the weight room maybe. He yelled something rude after them as they drove past, too muffled to really catch the words. Billy didn't yell back. In fact, everyone was really quiet. Joey sighed, quietly, and leaned back in his seat. Fuck. This was supposed to be an escape, not another prison.
Five minutes, maybe, on the main road (Joey had his eyes on the clock, or else he'd have said more like ten or fifteen), and Snuffy was frowning at street-signs.
"Billy, the map's under my seat. Get it out and hand it up to Joey."
Billy shrugged - Joey could see the movement out of the corner of his eye - and did so.
"We're going as far as Portland tonight, right?"
"With a stop for supper," Ric put in, as Joey got the map unfolded. Let's see, they had to be around here...
"Well, first we have to get to Maine," Snuffy said, all huffy.
Joey looked up from the map - this was the fun part, translating the map to the streets. Wait, there was a sign "TO 495", that might help... "Which means we're going thataway," he said, nodding toward the sign.
"What way?" Snuffy said. "Shit!" He hit the brakes hard as the light right ahead of them turned from yellow to red.
Right. Nah. Too easy. "Thataway," Joey said helpfully, pointing.
Snuffy slumped into his seat, muttering something mostly under his breath about "wiseass" and "never gonna get out of Massachusetts." Billy, on the other hand, grinned - Joey could see it in the rearview mirror - and leaned forward far enough to smack Joey on the head. "Pay attention to the map," he said cheerfully. "You're supposed to be navigating."
"I am," Joey protested, rattling the map in front of him, as Ric said, "Um, Billy, I think you should be wearing your seatbelt."
Snuffy moaned and laid his head on the steering wheel. Joey bit his tongue - oh, God, we really aren't gonna get to Maine at this rate, we're gonna have to just drive around Massachusetts in circles - and Billy laughed outright. "You see any cops around here? Let me worry about that."
The highway wasn't actually all that far away. Maybe five miles. The stoplights slowed them down, and the atmosphere in the car still wasn't calm or happy or even really vacation-ish. They passed a Star Market with a clapboard sign out front, something about the weekly sale. Ric craned his neck at it as they passed.
"Hey, slow down."
"The only thing they've got on sale are grainy apples, Ric," Billy pointed out.
"I thought it was Granny apples," Joey said.
"This time of year? Grainy. Trust me."
"Since when are you an apple expert, Billy?" Snuffy couldn't actually throw anything at Billy, but he glared at the rear-view mirror as if he'd like to. Which made everyone shut up for at least the next mile or so, until they ran into some road construction (who the fuck did road construction in March? Except the state of Massachusetts, apparently) and Billy and Ric started talking about construction workers, something like that, too quietly for Joey to hear them. Bastards.
Finally they reached the highway (which, despite all Snuffy's nerves, wasn't rush-hour heavy traffic at all, not the direction they were going). "Here we are," Joey said, trying to fold up the map the same way he'd got it and failing. "On our way at last."
"Hoo-fucking-ray," Billy said, with a roll of his eyes that Joey really hoped was meant for Snuffy having been an asshole for the last half-hour. "Hey, put some music on."
Ric rolled his eyes too, and muttered, not quite quietly enough, "Gotta be better than listening to Snuffy any more."
Aw, shit, no... Snuffy either hadn't heard that or it hadn't registered yet. Before it could do so, Joey grabbed the tape Billy dropped into his hand and popped it into the tape player, and heard the slinky slide guitar and bass harmonica that opened "That's Not Her Style." Billy Joel. Distraction, huh? He cranked the volume.
Nobody else said anything through most of the song either, though Joey could see Billy out of the corner of his eye, tapping his foot to the beat, and Snuffy nodded his head in time to the drums and guitar, mouthing the words to the steering wheel.
Papers say she was seen in LA with a stranger... Joey grinned out at the road. Distraction, oh yeah. Trust Billy to know what to do before they just gave up and went back to Regis. He pressed his fingers into his legs, trying to figure out the fingering for the guitar for the lead break.
I read where it's said-
"-that she sleeps in a bed made of satin!" Snuffy had a pretty good singing voice, but a lot more Elton John than Billy Joel. Joey had the sudden mental image of Snuffy in sequins and peacock feathers. He made the mistake of meeting Billy's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and saw the same thought in them. Both of them burst out laughing, with Ric joining in. Snuffy just kept singing along, throwing his voice up to falsetto: "...just not her style, I can tell you, 'cause I am her man!"
As the song wound down to fade-out, Joey clapped. "Nice job, Snuffy," he said. "Except you aren't Billy Joel, and who wants satin sheets?"
Snuffy turned down Billy Joel, who was singing about North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe. "If some gorgeous lady asks me to share her bed and she has satin sheets," he said smugly, "you can turn her down if you want, but I won't."
"Um, Snuffy?" Joey said carefully. "I don't wanna share a girl with you. Even a gorgeous lady with satin sheets."
"What if she doesn't have satin sheets?" Billy said, leaning in toward the front seats again. "Or if you really don't want satin sheets, you could ask her. 'Scuse me, babe, hold that thought, just lemme change the sheets to cotton.'"
Joey tried to imagine Billy asking a theoretical gorgeous chick to change her sheets. This immediately led to a mental picture of Billy sprawled out on now-cotton sheets, smiling up at Joey - no. Smiling at the chick. Where the fuck was his mind going? Billy wouldn't be smiling up at Joey unless they were sharing some chick, and even with Billy, Joey couldn't imagine sharing.
Sharing the girl, or sharing Billy?
Oh God. He should've just stayed at Regis.
"It is tricky, though," Ric said, totally oblivious to where Joey's mind had wandered. "A friend of one of my cousins got black satin sheets for his birthday. When he brought his girlfriend back to his place, she couldn't stay on the bed. Just kept sliding off."
Right. Sliding off the bed. Much better mental image, Joey told himself firmly. "Not like you can ask on a first date, 'Do you have satin sheets?'" he said aloud.
"Yeah, well. Lots of things you can't ask on a first date," Billy put in thoughtfully. He shrugged when Joey looked back at him curiously. "I don't know - like, do you dress your poodle in funny clothes? Do you shave?"
"'Do you like to give head?'" Joey suggested.
"'Do you like it on top?'" Ric said.
Snuffy laughed at that one. "Hey, hey!" He waggled his eyebrows at Ric in the rear-view mirror (not paying any attention to the road, to Joey's mild alarm). "Those California debutantes must be more, uh, laid-back than I thought."
Ric grimaced, leaning in toward the break in the front seat himself. "Yeah, right. I don't think I could ask that on the tenth date. It's all I can do to be allowed to walk around, holding her hand. Feels like I'm back in elementary school."
"Holding her hand?" Billy repeated incredulously. "Not even a kiss? Fuck, Ric -"
"Hey, in elementary school, holding hands was a big step," Snuffy said. Ric sagged backwards into his seat, covering his face with his hands, and Joey bit his tongue on the impulse to laugh himself. "Back when I was that young, I wouldn't even let anyone see me hold hands."
Joey tilted his head, giving Snuffy his best imitation of that 'you're gonna explain this, right?' look that Billy did really well. "Why not?"
"I'll have you know I had a reputation to protect," Snuffy said gravely.
"What reputation?" Ric demanded, uncovering his face.
"I know," Billy said. "Snuffy Bradberry, thrower of crayons."
"Eater of paste," Joey added.
"Wiper of snot!" Ric was grinning now.
"Fuck you all," Snuffy said. "I'm gonna just leave you all in Maine, I hope you know that."
"Yeah, right," Joey said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. "You're gonna turn this car right around." This was more like it. Everything's gonna be fine. They were gonna have a perfect week.
"So long as we stop in Freeport first," Billy said, leaning into the front seats - Joey could feel the pressure against his shoulder. "You wouldn't believe the shit you can buy at L.L. Bean."
***
The Portland Regency Hotel looked...cute. It had trees, and a front courtyard with a dolphin statue in it. The dolphin looked like it was frolicking, for fuck's sake. If you looked up through the leaves, you could see a carved thing up near the roof that said ARMORY, but other than that, nothing. Shit. Billy'd been hoping for at least crenellations. He'd seen an old armory once along the Pike that looked like a medieval castle, not that Disney shit but something real, squat and defensible. With crenellations. This just looked like a hotel.
Joey rocked back on his heels and looked up at it anyway, like it was actually worth looking at. Maybe something about the trees, or the fading twilight. Snuffy had his head buried in the trunk, hauling out all the luggage and handing it off to the bellhop who'd appeared out of nowhere (unless he was the parking valet - part of the reason Billy picked this hotel was because it had valet parking, which meant not having to drive around Portland for two fucking hours trying to find parking near a hotel). Ric just looked around uncertainly, then craned his neck to look up. "Armory," he said. "Doesn't look like one."
"It's pretty recent," Billy said, trying not to sound like some kind of half-assed tour guide. "Maybe a hundred years old." The booking people on the phone had made a big deal about how it was made a National Historic Something last year - he'd wanted to tell that to Joey, too, maybe showing off a little, but not when the hotel looked like this. Last time he'd believe something in a guidebook.
"It's boring," Snuffy said, slamming the trunk shut again. "If we're gonna sleep in an armory, I want at least some armor."
Ric punched him in the arm. "It's an armory, not a castle."
"Looks pretty hotel-ish to me," Joey said dubiously.
Billy snuck a look over at him, and caught Joey looking back, with a sort of apologetic smile, like he'd known Billy picked this place to...amuse him. Well, amuse Snuffy, anyway, and maybe Ric, but he'd been mostly hoping Joey would like it. "Probably better that way," Billy said aloud, pushing Joey lightly toward the entrance. Joey let himself be pushed. "Unless you really want to sleep on gun racks."
The inside looked even more hotel-ish than the outside: all crystal chandeliers and elaborate flower arrangements and the same dark red carpet that Billy would swear every single high-end hotel in the fucking world had, maybe because they all thought it looked elegant. The guy behind the concierge desk wore a tie but no jacket, neat haircut, neat clothing, boring as holy fuck. He looked right through Billy.
"Hello, how may I help you?"
Billy bit his tongue on the impulse to say something, not sure what. Something that might crack that blank, condescending politeness. Flutter his eyelashes and say, Yes, can you recommend a good dining establishment? Except that would probably just piss the guy off, and he'd lose their reservation. And the guys...well, Snuffy would laugh, if he weren't still cranky from the drive, and Ric would just blink, but Joey...no. Really not worth it, not if Joey wouldn't laugh. Instead, Billy said, in the voice he kept for dealing with parents and schoolteachers, "Reservation, name of Tepper."
The guy's eyes actually focused on him for a second, instead of looking through him. Then he looked away at his computer, tapped a few keys, and actually thawed enough to smile, just a little. "Of course, Mr. Tepper. If I might see your credit card?" Billy handed it over, which led to more key-tapping. Billy glanced over at Joey, grinning despite himself - hey, suckered another one! Joey caught the look and grinned back with a shake of his head, like he couldn't believe Billy got away with it.
"Room 412," the guy said, looking up again. Billy hastily wiped the grin off his face. "Here is your credit card, and your keys. Shall I have the bell bring up your luggage?"
Billy shrugged. "Please."
None of the guys said anything until they'd moved away from the desk, out of earshot. Then Ric stopped short and glanced back over his shoulder at the bellhop, who was loading up their baggage onto one of those cart things. "Um, Billy, what's with the bellhop? We could bring up our own stuff."
"Because it's nearly seven and I'm fucking starving." Regis served lunch at noon, dinner at five, and Billy hadn't noticed any of them chowing down at lunch. He found himself looking at Joey, not Ric, as he answered. Ric didn't have any secrets to keep. Joey was the one who knew exactly which stuff in their dorm room was his, and where it was, and bit Phil's head off if he went looking in the wrong pile.
Joey looked back for a second, then shrugged as if it didn't matter. "You got a place in mind?"
Shit. Hadn't pissed Joey off, but...ah, fuck it, he'd fucked up. Especially since he didn't have a place in mind. Billy glanced around, then said, "Well, there's this place in the hotel..."
The restaurant was more bland than the hotel, not even a frolicking dolphin. A few old pictures of this place from back when it was an armory, gray carpet, wallpaper that looked like a reject from an Oriental carpet factory. Same shit, different day. Maybe the food would be good to make up for it...except that looking over the menu, he was gonna have to point and guess. Lobster stew, goat cheese mushroom ravioli. They had plain lobster, too, but he wanted to save that for later in the trip. Didn't they have anything normal?
"I don't think we're gonna get up that far, Snuffy."
Billy lowered his menu. Snuffy had a big-ass guidebook - how the fuck hadn't he noticed that under Snuffy's arm? - out flat next to his place, and Joey was peering at the map with a little grin. Billy cleared his throat warily. "What?"
Snuffy looked up, and pulled the guidebook a little closer to him, eyes flickering from Billy to Ric as if he expected them to start throwing spitballs. "I'm just trying to plan ahead!"
Ric coughed and put down his water. "Snuffy, half that shit's closed because it's not summer."
"At least it says so here," Snuffy said defensively. "That's better than 'let's just follow signs'."
Which was what Ric had been suggesting on the way up - Don't they have stuff marked with signs by the highway? Well, maybe in California, they did. Out here, Billy didn't figure their chances were any better than fifty-fifty. "What about other places?"
Snuffy let the guidebook drop back to the table and gave him his best attempt at a raised-eyebrow, "I'm waiting for an explanation, Mr. Tepper" imitation-Parker look, which might've worked except it was Snuffy. Ric, who'd been about to pick up his menu, let it go and asked curiously, "What other places?" And Joey smiled - just a little smile, nothing Snuffy or Ric would even notice. Of course, Joey had helped him dig up a good guidebook, and heard him on the phone asking about Portland hotels and shit, and covered for him when Parker started asking questions about library and phone time. But Joey didn't say, 'What did you find out?' or anything that would give Billy away. Well, any more away than a hotel reservation could do. Instead, he gave Billy that quiet smile, just for him, and said, "Like L.L. Bean?"
Before Billy could answer, their waiter finally showed up - dressed in black and white, old enough to be his father, except he didn't even have Jim Tepper's fake blue-collar grin.
"Good evening, gentlemen. A drink to start you off?" His eyes lingered on Joey's faded black sweatshirt and Ric's purple pullover...thing.
Snuffy opened his mouth, shut it again, then said, "Um, Pepsi."
"7-Up."
"Iced tea."
Billy looked down at the list of drinks, and opened his mouth to say Chardonnay. Before he could, Joey kicked him under the table. Billy bit his tongue, looked up at the waiter again, and said, "Pepsi."
Once the waiter was gone, Snuffy put down the menu he'd been hiding behind and grinned at Billy. "What, didn't feel like pushing your luck?"
Too damn far away to kick Snuffy - besides, he might miss and kick Ric, who always sprawled. Billy glared at him. No, Joey didn't, stop fucking kicking me- No. That guy wasn't the kind who'd just say may I see some ID, ah, well, we can't sell to you in that case. Too stiff and sour for that. Shit. "No, I'm saving it up for next week," Billy said instead, then pointedly turned to Joey. "I didn't mean L.L. Bean either - I meant the Desert of Maine."
Joey frowned, but in a maybe-interested kind of way, thinking about it. Snuffy, on the other hand, stared and said, "The what?"
"No, really, it's a desert." Did they have a flyer or some shit like that? He'd have to check the racks out in the lobby after dinner. He'd read about it in Ripley's Believe It Or Not, which wasn't exactly helpful with directions or anything like that. "It's a really, really small fucking desert, but it's a desert."
"Still might be closed," Joey pointed out. But his eyes were cloudy and absent, as if he were trying to picture a desert in Maine.
"So we'll find someplace else if it is," Billy said, leaning forward. He could improvise. He was good at improvising. "The state's lousy with art museums."
Snuffy snickered again from behind his menu. "You sure know how to show a guy a good time."
For a second, Billy thought Joey was going to snap at Snuffy - not that the fucker didn't deserve it, after having been a prick for the entire drive up. But instead Joey let out his breath again and picked up his own menu. "Shut up, Snuffy."
The waiter appeared with their drinks in another minute or two, soda round glasses that looked almost but not quite like wine glasses after all. Joey picked out the lemon from his iced tea and sucked at it - not like a tease, like...someone who liked lemon. Billy realized he was staring, and looked down at the menu again. Once the guy took their orders (seafood all around - no lobster, though, nobody in the mood for it or something), he vanished again and they were left just sort of sitting there, Snuffy staring down at the guidebook next to his plate, Ric buttering a roll, and Joey looking around the place like he might want to draw it. Fat chance, in Billy's opinion. Nothing worth drawing here.
"There's a couple railroad museums," Snuffy said abruptly.
"Snuffy!" All three together, but what else was there to say?
Snuffy let the guidebook slap closed, looking around at them earnestly. "Look, I like you guys, but I don't want to spend all my time in the car with you."
"So how about we check out the lobby?" Billy suggested. "There's shitloads of pamphlet stuff out there." Maybe not for the Desert of Maine, but there had to be other shit too. He hadn't brought along the guidebook he'd used for research, and the four or five things he'd picked out weren't gonna fill the whole week.
"Vacation by pamphlet?" Ric said dubiously.
"You were the one who suggested vacation by highway sign," Joey pointed out.
"You're not helping," Snuffy said, and opened the guidebook again. "We actually went past some stuff, so if there's anything open we're gonna have to double back-"
Billy tuned him out - they'd had this discussion in the car on the way here, and it hadn't been all that interesting then. Still wasn't anything to look at in the restaurant, nothing to talk about - well, maybe with Joey, but Joey was listening to Snuffy go on about the shit in his guidebook, and Billy wasn't gonna just interrupt that because he felt...whatever this was. Not quite bored. It took a while to work up to bored. Restless, maybe. What the fuck was that music they were playing, anyway? He didn't see any kind of live performers, so they must be piping it over some kind of sound system. Something with piano, sorta classical. Dull. At least Joey's operas had the occasional fortissimo to liven things up. Where did they pipe the music from, anyway? Did they run it from some kind of central room in the hotel, or was it closer to the restaurant? Had to be a way to track it down, somehow - and if he could track it down, he could get in. Maybe swap the tape of boring classical music for something more interesting. He could just picture the expressions on that snobby waiter's face if "I Go To Extremes" came blasting out of the hidden speakers.
"Billy?" Punch to his arm - Joey, who'd noticed he was thinking too hard. "Yo, Billy."
"What?" Snuffy put down the guidebook again, looking back and forth between them, forehead wrinkled. Ric put down his glass, looking just as confused.
Joey didn't look confused. He had a soft, conspiratorial smile. "What?" he said quietly.
Billy grinned back at him - of course Joey knew what he was thinking, Joey always knew -- and said innocently, "Just thinking about the music."
"Oh, no." Ric glanced nervously back over his shoulder, like he thought hotel security was lurking just beyond their table. "If you get us kicked out of the hotel -"
"I wouldn't get us kicked out!" Jesus fuck, what did Ric think he was, an amateur? "Have a little faith, wouldja?"
The waiter showed up with their meals not two minutes later - Ric jumped when the guy cleared his throat behind him. He didn't relax again until the waiter had laid out the way-too-many-plates (hadn't they ever heard of putting everything on one plate? Billy didn't envy whoever had to wash the dishes here, that was for sure) and gone away again.
The food, in Billy's opinion, wasn't worth relaxing over. Snuffy's fried calamari appetizer ("Snuffy, why would you want to eat squid?") had shown up at the same time as the rest of the shit, so the table was covered: way too easy to knock something over, just on accident. Ric's pasta was the only really decent size serving there - well, Joey had three or four slices of fish, swimming in some kind of fancy sauce, and his own 'surf and turf' turned out to be a really small steak with way too few shrimp beside it. Big shrimp, but it was the principle of the thing.
Joey looked from his plate to Billy's, then snatched one of the shrimp. "Taste test," he said, and tugged off the shell and popped it into his mouth, the whole thing. His chewing slowed after a second, and his eyes half-closed.
Billy remembered, belatedly, to close his mouth and stop fucking staring. So Joey liked the shrimp. Good. Good shrimp. Didn't mean he had to stare at Joey, just because Joey was, uh...really...enjoying...aw, fuck it. He grabbed his fork, and leaned over to neatly poke off a section of fish. "That's my excuse." Mmm, the fish wasn't too bad, either. Sauce was a bit strong, too cheesy, but nothing to make him moan.
Snuffy rolled his eyes. "Since when do you two wait for excuses?" He picked up his own fork, and neatly snitched out a shrimp from Ric's seafood fettuccini.
Ric blinked down at his plate, then over at Snuffy's, and said indignantly, "Hey!"
"So snitch something of his," Joey suggested.
Ric eyed Snuffy's plate warily. "Not if it means eating squid."
Snuffy wound up eating all his own squid, occasionally making nummy noises that made Joey laugh and Ric cough because he was trying not to laugh. They didn't talk much, beyond the occasional, "Well, we could -" and the immediate, "Shut up, Snuffy!" By the time Billy finished chasing the last cherry tomato from his salad, Snuffy was listening to the wanna-be classical music and trying to convince Joey that it must be Italian and he should recognize the composer, despite Joey's pointing out that it wasn't opera or on guitar, which were the two areas where he might recognize classical music, and anyway why should he give a shit about what music a hotel restaurant played? Billy grinned, popped the tomato into his mouth, and looked over at Ric, who was...way the hell off in his own little world. What the fuck? "Ric?"
"Huh?"
Billy waved his hand in front of Ric's eyes. "Earth to Ricardo Montoya.."
Ric finally blinked and looked away. "I'm fine." He was sorta flushed, like he was embarrassed. Hmmm.
Billy looked over in the direction Ric had been looking - well, more like staring. The maitre'd had just settled a large group around a table over there, still mostly involved in getting their coats off and settling who was sitting where and does everyone have a menu. Pretty obvious where Ric was staring, though - not the tall bearded guy dressed like a lumberjack. "The blonde?" She was cute enough. Short, bouncy, wearing pink. Not his type.
He hadn't lowered his voice. Joey abandoned his one-sided conversation with Snuffy to look over in the same direction, as Ric slid lower in his seat and said, not as quietly as he probably thought, "Shut up, she'll notice."
Joey turned back, grinning - not his usual quiet smile, but a wide grin like he wanted to laugh. "She hasn't," he said. "But her girlfriend has."
Girlfriend? Billy looked back, and this time he spotted the short-haired brunette sitting right next to the blonde, watching Ric with narrowed, jealous eyes. Holy shit. No wonder Ric never got any farther than holding hands: Billy'd known Ric's gaydar sucked (didn't even pick up on Snuffy, who swished like a new broom when he thought he could get away with it, much less Billy himself), but this...aw, man. He felt almost sorry for the poor guy. Almost.
He'd been staring too long himself: the brunette looked over at him, raising one eyebrow coolly. Billy grinned, and raised his water glass in a silent toast. The brunette blinked, momentarily confused, and the blonde next to her sat up straighter, with a "Hey!" that Billy could hear even over here.
When he looked back at his own table, Ric looked nearly as confused as the brunette. Snuffy just shook his head, eying the other table curiously. "Billy, what are you doing?"
Billy shrugged - if Snuffy couldn't figure it out, he wasn't gonna tell him - and met Joey's eyes. Joey's grin hadn't faded. "If they come after you," he said gently, "we're not gonna help you."
"What makes you think I'd want help?" Reflex answer, something to make Ric laugh and Joey raise his eyebrows in that skeptical expression. If the girls really did come over, then he'd have to make something up, because this wasn't an old black-and-white movie and he hadn't meant any kind of flirtation. Well, not much. If he was gonna flirt with anyone -
Stop that right there, Billy Tepper. You're treading too close to the edge as it is.
After they paid the bill (Billy paid the polite amount of tip, and only the polite amount of tip), they paused in the hotel lobby to grab fistfuls of pamphlets, pretty much randomly. Joey flipped through them as they walked to the elevator. "Two-story outhouse?" he said doubtfully. "I don't know about you guys, but -"
"We can sort through 'em in the morning," Billy said firmly.
Snuffy punched the call button. "Hey, it's only seven-thirty. We can do it this evening."
"Any more talk about where we're going and I'm gonna smack both of you," Ric said, and that shut everybody up.
This lasted all of maybe five minutes - until they'd reached their room, and Billy convinced the door lock to work. The staff had brought up all their luggage, neatly slotted next to the dresser. Snuffy knelt down next to his suitcase, rummaging for something (his inhaler, maybe, or some kind of medication - Billy didn't know Snuffy's nightly rituals, and didn't care either). Ric located the remote for the TV and sat down at the end of the bed, channel-surfing like a pro. Joey, on the other hand, folded back the coverlet on one bed to expose the pillow, and stood still for a moment, head tilted a little to one side like he was staring at the sheets. Billy leaned in to look over his shoulder. "Cotton."
"Yeah," absently.
Hold that thought, just lemme change the sheets... It was stupid, reckless, skating even closer to the edge than he already was. But he couldn't resist. Billy leaned in closer and whispered into Joey's ear: "Sorry it's not satin."
***
No, the sheets weren't satin. This wasn't some kind of cheap-ass honeymoon hotel in the Poconos, this was a class joint with cotton sheets. Which probably had some superhuman thread count, but still not satin.
Joey turned his head on the pillow. Snuffy and Ric were, so far as he could tell, fast asleep. He couldn't even really see 'em, except as lumps under the blankets in the far bed. Billy was fast asleep, anyway, sprawled out the next pillow over. Dreaming, maybe, though Joey couldn't see to be sure. They'd closed the blinds before going to bed, and not enough light leaked in to really see Billy, not unless he leaned in closer. Lots closer.
Yeah. That was the point, wasn't it.
Usually he could shove the thoughts aside, under whatever else was going on, or just...think about something else, music or school or what Billy'd done with Ric that he hadn't told Joey yet. Fuck. Back to Billy. There were reasons, good reasons, why he hadn't just shoved Billy Tepper up against the wall and kissed him until Billy kissed him back. Reasons like Phil, and schoolwork, and Parker. Reasons like not being completely sure Billy would kiss him back -- ninety percent sure, but not a hundred percent -- or if he'd laugh it off. Reasons like Billy was the best friend he'd ever had, and he'd rather die than fuck that up.
Except every time he stood there and repeated the reasons off to himself, under his breath, one after another, Billy would turn around and look at him from under his eyelashes, trying to talk Joey into doing whatever, or Billy would lean in like he'd never heard of the concept of personal space, or...or Billy would just look at him, really look at him, and for a second, there wasn't anyone else in the whole fucking world.
I want that. He could admit that, couldn't he? It was - fuck, couldn't see the clock, too dark - well, he'd been lying here long enough that it was somewhere between Really Fucking Late and Really Fucking Early. Late enough that he could hear the wind outside the window. Late enough that he didn't give a shit about hot chicks, with or without satin sheets. Just Billy. So fucking easy - all he had to do was reach out. Hell, if he rolled over and started kissing Billy, by the time Billy woke up - they weren't at Regis --
Joey rolled over before he could think about it, away from Billy. No, they weren't at Regis, but they weren't alone either. Not alone enough.
Sorry they're not satin...
Joey squeezed his eyes shut. He'd been half-hard since that whisper in his ear. All he had to do was imagine Billy rolling over, Billy coming to him, and... He gave up and opened his eyes again. Shit. That hadn't helped at all. He should go hide in the bathroom. Or just go jerk off, then maybe he'd be able to come back to bed and sleep. ...the bed he shared with Billy, the bed that Billy was taking up more than his fair half of. Yeah, sure he'd be able to sleep.
The mattress shifted abruptly. Billy turning over in his sleep: Joey could hear the soft sleepy murmur that meant Billy was almost-but-not-quite awake, going back to sleep again. Shit. If he got up now, Billy would wake up all the way, which meant...well, it meant either making fake-sounding excuses and hoping Billy wouldn't push it, or telling Billy some stuff that he didn't want to tell him, not now, not at two AM in a hotel room with friends asleep in the next bed over.
On the other hand...he knew how to be quiet. Billy wouldn't notice; he hadn't before. Joey closed his eyes again, and slid his hand down into his boxers. Think about Billy. Billy and satin sheets, him and Billy at one of those stupid hotels, stuck there for some reason that didn't matter because this was a fantasy. Billy laughing, his head thrown back. Billy sprawled out over the satin sheets, right in the middle of the bed, grinning up at him with that look like there wasn't anyone else in the world. Billy kissing him. Oh, yes, like that - fuck, had to be careful, couldn't move too fast or he'd wake up Billy anyway. Billy sprawling on top of him, whispering in his ear, all sorts of incoherent shit: that Joey was beautiful, that he wanted him, that he'd wanted this so fucking long...Billy hard against him, moving like he couldn't help himself; Billy losing control, out of control, so fucking gone on Joey that he couldn't stop himself or pull back -
Joey came, quick spasm like a punch to the gut. He lay there, trying to catch his breath, hand all sticky, and listened hard. Nothing. Not from the other bed, not from Billy.
He grimaced up at the ceiling. He still had to go to the bathroom. He was not sleeping in wet boxers.
-on to the next part-