Happy World (4 page)

“Come on,” Rory finally said and grabbed the sleeve of Kyle’s costume shirt. He tugged him out the cafeteria door and followed the blue stripe on the wall back up the stairs. “God, next shift I’ll bring my own lunch,” he laughed. “Is there anywhere else we can eat besides underground?”

“Uh-huh.” Kyle licked his lips and cast one last apprehensive glance behind them. “Um. There’s an outdoor eating area behind Wardrobe, but it sucks if it’s really hot or raining.”

“Well, we’ll just see. I’m not worried.”

Kyle studied him for a moment, expression serious. “Not much really does worry you, does it?”

“Nope.” Rory shrugged. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He worried about his blood sugar and what his father thought of him, but no way was he saying that stuff to Kyle. Rory didn’t worry about most other stuff, anyway. Especially getting a dirty look from a guy he didn’t even know.

Kyle gave Rory another inscrutable stare and then nodded. “Come on. We need to get back over to Fairytale Land and check the topiary for trash.”

“I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.” Rory pasted a grimace on his face that felt like the trademark Happy World smile, but was probably a poor facsimile.

A disbelieving snort from Kyle was his reply.

***

Five hours later saw Rory slipping behind the wheel of his truck and reaching for the glove box. He withdrew his glucose meter and lancet and did a quick blood sugar check, then recorded the results in the small journal he kept in his backpack. His glucose level looked good, although he knew he’d have to eat as soon as he got home. An eight hour Happy World shift was going to require some scheduling as far as health maintenance was concerned, but Rory wasn’t worried. He’d been doing this since he was eight.

Keeping it private was his only concern. Rory wanted anything but sympathy for his illness. He didn’t feel sorry for himself, so nobody else should either.

The traffic along the Florida interstate was uncharacteristically light. He reached his mom’s house in a matter of minutes and headed inside, already thinking of the turkey sandwich he wanted to make.

His mother looked up from the paperwork she had spread out at the dining room table. “Hello, sweet pea. How did it go?” Her smile was warm, if a bit tired looking.

Rory shrugged and bent to kiss her cheek. “You know. It went. I picked up trash.” He rolled his eyes and glanced down at her files. “Jeeze, Mom. Never heard of leaving it at the office?”

It was a familiar, gentle tease. Sheridan Stafford was one of the state’s most highly sought-after child psychiatrists. Leaving work at the office was not an option, since her after hours were spent listening to the day’s recorded sessions and preparing transcription for her secretary. Staying in her tastefully furnished office to finish her work would mean that Dr. Sherry Stafford would be sacrificing time with her family, something she had always refused to do. Rory and his younger brother Riley had grown up with manila folders and files on the dining room table.

“I did leave some at the office, believe it or not.” Sherry sighed and took off her eyeglasses. “But I think I’m done for the evening. What would you like to eat?”

“I got it.” Rory squeezed her shoulder and turned toward the kitchen. “Want me to run you a hot bath or something?”

He heard her snort at the very idea. She could run her own bath, thank you very much.

The refrigerator yielded some deli turkey, Swiss cheese, and half an avocado. Rory made himself a passable sandwich and stood at the counter to eat. Dandy, his mom’s ten- year-old schnauzer, sat and watched him.

“None for beggars,” Rory admonished, then relented and dropped her a bit of turkey. She ate it delicately and cocked her head at Rory, looking for more.

He ignored her as he dropped his paper plate in the trash and headed for the hallway. Now that his stomach was full, all he wanted was a hot shower to wash off any remaining enchantment from Happy World. All that happiness tended to make his teeth hurt.

Rory peeled off his clothes and waited for the water to heat. He leaned against the sink and stared blearily at the floor tiles. Somehow, he hadn’t really expected his new job to be so much… well, work. A theme park had sounded more on the fun side, but today had been anything but fun. Especially being under the watchful eye of his trainer.

Kyle. Rory snorted and stepped under the spray, adjusting the nozzle until the water came down in pelting needles that would hopefully help the tightness in his shoulders. Kyle was definitely part of the not-fun.

He sank down on the small bench that was carved into the shower wall and let the water beat down on him. Not for the first time that day, Rory wondered if Kyle was really as intense as he seemed. Maybe it was an act put on for Rory’s benefit. To get him thinking in the Happy World mindset, maybe? It was anyone’s guess.

The water turned steamy and Rory felt himself relax a little more. The heat and pressure of the day swirled down the drain, although Rory found it hard to turn his thoughts of Kyle off as neatly as he’d hoped. The guy was actually pretty cute, if you liked the serious brown eyes and neat haircut type. Rory tended more toward the showy, swaggery type of guy, but he’d found that a lot of them were actually assholes. Take Charlie, the douche-y dragon slayer. That had been a disappointment.

Almost on auto-pilot, his hand drifted to his cock. Something about the shower and warm water always did it to him. The shower was perfect for jacking off and there was never a shortage of slippery stuff for lube. Hair conditioner worked well enough, so Rory took a palmful and coated himself with it.

The coconut scent drifted upward as he stroked, making him think of summer and the beach and all the oiled bodies that decorated the Florida coastline. His cock swelled beneath his palm and Rory brushed over the tip with his fingers. He took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the cool tile, prepared for this to be quick and easy.

Knowing his body as well as he did made him a decent partner in bed. At least, that’s what Rory attributed it to. He knew what he liked and what felt good, so it would make sense to try that stuff on other guys, too. Like using his thumb to press lightly into his slit with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. Or making sure the rough calluses on his palm touched the sensitive spot of his prick, right under the head. All the little details that added up to a good experience.

Everything started tingling at once, and Rory knew he was close. The rhythm he’d only just started on himself sometimes worked too well. He pushed through the tunnel of his fingers and squirmed a bit on the seat, foot sliding and slipping on the shower floor. His orgasm began as a ripple, sending waves of pleasure up and out, and then he was biting down hard on his bottom lip in an effort to remain silent as he came. Warm stripes of come painted his wrist and fell to the floor, washing instantly down the drain.

The water rained down and Rory sat there for a long time without moving. He could feel himself soften but kept his hand curled protectively around his cock. He was suddenly exhausted from his long day and it seemed like way too much effort to do anything other than let the water beat on him.

It was finally the threat of sitting in a cold shower that roused Rory enough to turn off the water and wrap a towel around his waist. He took a moment to examine the small patch on his lower abdomen and reattached the pump to it that dispensed his insulin. If there was one thing in his life that he purposely followed the rules for, it was taking care of that thing. It had replaced giving himself insulin injections about five years ago, and his life had gotten a whole lot easier.

Dandy was curled up at the foot of his bed when Rory entered the bedroom. She wagged her stubby tail, but didn’t lift her head.

“You have your own bed,” Rory told her. He dropped the towel and pulled on soft, gray sweats with his alma mater’s insignia printed down the thigh.

Her tail continued to wag.

Rory dropped onto the bed next to Dandy and flicked the television on with the remote. He petted her silky head and closed his eyes. “I’m beat,” he told the dog, although she likely didn’t care much. “Working is… work.”

The only sound, other than the low volume of the TV, was Dandy’s tail thumping against the bed. “And you know what else, Dan? There was this guy. He had a real stick up his ass.”

The tiny flicker of guilt that shot through Rory was surprising. Kyle definitely had his panties in a bunch, hadn’t he? It made Rory dread his next shift. To feel guilty talking about Kyle -- to Rory’s dog, no less -- was weird.

The other weird thing was what had happened in the shower, just before Rory came. The nameless, faceless guy that often starred in his fantasies had morphed into someone else, someone who definitely had a name and a face.

Kyle, with his serious brown eyes and too-tight grip on rules and regulations, had been the last thing Rory thought of before his orgasm took over.

Weird.

***

His next shift was the following day. Rory made a specific point of lingering backstage until one minute after ten o’clock. Then he sauntered slowly out to meet Kyle beneath the designated lamppost on Fantasy Street.

As expected, Kyle was waiting impatiently. “Our shift starts at ten.”

“It’s ten.” Rory grinned and snapped his claw at Kyle’s shoe, trying to untie one of the laces.

Kyle lifted his foot out of reach and glanced pointedly at his watch, but seemed to think that responding to Rory would be fruitless. “Come on,” he sighed. “We’ve got parade duty again, this time down in Freedom’s Fair.”

Freedom’s Fair was the section of the Park that revolved around the story of young America’s emergence as a country and its breakaway from British rule. That’s what Rory’s Handbook had said, anyway. To him, the area just looked like one big mash-up of red, white, and blue bunting, streamers, and flags. The rides and restaurants had names like Liberty Bells and Justice Juice Smoothies, which Rory guessed were supposed to inspire thoughts of patriotism. Or something. To him, it just inspired vague memories of Fourth of July at summer camp.

“I thought the parade started in Galaxy Land.” Rory refused to trot to catch up with Kyle, who was already a few feet ahead of him.

“That’s the midday parade on week days. This is a weekend and there are three parades today. Same parade, but it starts at the opposite end of the Park. Come on, we need to get down there.”

Rory blinked and tried to make sense out of that. Same parade, different day, different start time, different place. Whatever.

They made their way through the Park to Freedom’s Fair, picking up any litter they encountered and smiling and nodding at guests. Rory remembered his mother admonishing him when he was younger about not making horrid faces, lest his expression freeze that way. He felt now like his smile was going to be permanently etched on his face and his cheeks were doomed to ache for all time.

Kyle stopped just inside the gates of Freedom’s Fair and gestured toward a partially hidden restroom. “Go ahead and make the restroom check. I’ll wait here for you.”

“Wow, you trust me to do it by myself?” Rory grinned and folded his arms, grabby claw dangling from one hand. “What if I lie and say the trash is empty, but it’s really full?”

That got him a frown. “I can go with you. But I’m supposed to be training you to do this stuff on your own.”

“Jeeze, I’m kidding.” Rory rolled his eyes and turned toward the restroom. It was mostly hidden from view behind the brick wall of Fort Freedom, which was actually a giant jungle gym and climbing structure. Nets and rope ladders were strategically hung to allow children forty-eight inches and smaller, please -- to jump, climb, swing, and crawl in relative safety.

The restroom check consisted of scanning the floors for debris and ensuring the paper towels and toilet paper rolls were full. Luckily, Happy World prided itself on going to extreme lengths for cleanliness, so the bathrooms were checked every half hour. This resulted in an easy job for Rory.

He emerged into the bright sunlight ten minutes later and looked around for Kyle. Rory couldn’t spot the familiar white uniform nearby. Figuring Kyle was worried about not being in his specified place at his specified time and had probably moved on to the beginning of the parade route, Rory turned in that direction.

A crowd had gathered at the south end of Fort Freedom. Rory smiled as politely as he could while trying to worm his way through it. Most of the people ignored him and Rory had to fight the urge to snap his claw at their asses. He was nearly through the tight group when he spotted Kyle standing at the edge of the throng, peering upward worriedly.

“Damn, this place has really bad traffic patterns.” He spoke to Kyle in a low voice that only Kyle could hear, but Rory waited for the “no swearing in uniform” admonishment anyway.

It didn’t come. Kyle remained silent, still craning his neck upward. Most of the crowd was doing the same thing, actually. Rory glanced skyward, wondering what was so fascinating.

He heard the cause of the crowd’s interest before he saw it. A pitiful child’s wail came from the center of Fort Freedom. Rory frowned and stepped in front of Kyle to locate the source.

A towheaded little boy, probably no older than four, was clinging to the rope bridge that connected the fort’s two lookout towers. What looked to be the boy’s father stood directly under the rope, trying to convince his son to just move across the bridge to the other side. His argument was proving unsuccessful, and Rory could see at a glance that the man was too large to squeeze through the tunnel that led up to the bridge.

Rory looked at the crowd, but no one who was smaller than the boy’s father seemed eager to climb up to rescue the child. He sighed in disgust and handed Kyle his broom and claw. “Hold this.”

Kyle automatically took the broom while still watching the little boy, then he whipped his head around toward Rory. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Getting the kid down.” Rory squirmed through the flock of people until he reached one of the turrets of the fort. Every fourth brick or so was positioned so it stuck out farther from the others, creating a rough climbing surface.