Smoky Mountain Dreams (6 page)

Amanda’s brown eyes followed him relentlessly. Jesse could
almost feel her brain cataloguing his every muscle twitch looking for meaning. “C’mon.
Didn’t you think he was cute?”

“Of course.”

Amanda perched on the side of his desk. She was blessedly
silent for a precious few seconds, but by the time Jesse had pulled out the
velvet roll with the bracelet he was repairing she was talking again.

“I mean, he was gay, right? Because he seemed kind of gay.”

Jesse held the loupe to his eye and inspected the diamond
that was loose along the edge of the clasp. He could see now that he should’ve
placed it a bit higher to avoid this issue. Nothing to do but repair it now.

“He ‘seemed gay’? What does that even mean, Amanda?”

“It means he seemed…I don’t know. He didn’t look at me the
way men who are into women look at me.”

“So, you’re assuming that because he wasn’t interested in
looking at your lovely bosom that he’s into men.”

“Yes. Well, that and the way he looked at you instead.”

Jesse grabbed the pliers and pulled gently at the edges of
the rim of gold holding the diamond in place. He’d have been better off making
the bracelet in platinum, but the client had requested twenty-four karat. That
was part of the problem too. The gold was too soft, and was getting dented with
accidental bangs against tables and doors. It wasn’t his best work.

“He was gay,” Jesse conceded.

“And it was a date he was asking you for at the door, not
just some bro-dude friendly coffee outing. When was the last time you went on a
date?”

“Bro-dudes don’t ask their friends for coffee outings,
Amanda. They ask them to ballgames, or to come over for pizza and football. And
not all straight guys are bro-dudes. And, believe it or not, some gay guys
are
bro-dudes. You’re stereotyping again.”

“What do you know about straight guys?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Come on. Now you’re just messing with me to be a jerk. If
you slept with them, then they aren’t straight.”

“You can’t put people in boxes like that.” Jesse put down
his work, and leaned back in his seat. “Not everyone gets their rocks off for
just one type of body or just one type of person. A guy can be mostly straight,
dig women, and still occasionally close his eyes while getting sucked off by
another guy. Or a guy can mostly like other guys, fall in love with a woman,
and enjoy sex with her too. Life is messy, okay? Stop trying to make it so
clean all the time.”

Amanda was quiet for a few minutes, and Jesse started to
work again. He picked at the edge of the gold, pulling it away from the
diamond. There were better ways to do this. He was doing more damage than good,
but part of him wanted to chuck the bracelet and start over from scratch, and
he was taking his frustration out on the setting.

“Were you straight? When you were with Marcy for all those
years? Did you consider yourself straight then?”

Jesse clenched his jaw, sweat breaking out on his forehead,
and his chest aching.

Amanda went on, “Because since…well, it’s only been men
since. And I’ve wondered.”

“It’s none of your business. You’re my employee, and I’m
your employer. This conversation is completely inappropriate .”

“I’m your
sister
,” Amanda said,
rolling her eyes.

“All the more inappropriate then.”

“You loved Marcy. I know you did. I’m not saying you didn’t,
Jesse.”

“Just leave,” he said, though his voice lacked anger, having
defaulted to resignation already. “I have work to do.”

Amanda stood, and Jesse had a brief moment of hope that the
conversation was over and she really would leave without another word. But it
had never been like Amanda to cede the field without a parting shot.

“He was cute. You should’ve gone. When’s the last time you
were on a real date, with a real person, who was really interested in you? It’s
all dirty, secret, furtive stuff that you’re ashamed of later.”

Jesse bit his cheek to keep from saying something he’d
regret. Besides, she was wrong. He was not
ashamed
.
He was just realistic. A man he got a blow job from in a bar bathroom was not a
man he took home to his kids, or introduced to his friends, or let meet Tim and
Nova.

She went on, “You
deserve
to be
happy, Jesse. What happened to Marcy…it wasn’t your fault.”

Jesse refrained from throwing the pliers at her, and managed
to wait until she’d shut the door to let his head fall to his desk. His stomach
churned with sadness and guilt, along with something else—a ripe, bright,
enticing thing that had to do with the way Christopher Ryder’s cheeks had gone
bright red while they’d talked. Maybe next time Jesse would have the guts to
say yes.

S
MOKY
MOUNTAIN DREAMS HAD A DISTINCT
odor that Christopher was inordinately
fond of. It was a mixture of funnel cakes, baked beans, and coffee—as well as
the world’s best iced gingerbread, the flour for which was milled there at the
park. Whenever that particular olfactory mix hit his nose, Christopher knew it
was almost show time.

The dressing area bustled the way it always did before a
program began, and he had to fight the sharp elbows of one of the girls in the
ice show for a place at the mirror. He smoothed a comb through his hair, and
used a touch of gel to get the front just right. He shuffled around inside his
bag for the foundation and a sponge to smooth out the hints of his skin’s
unevenness. He was spare with it. He’d always had good skin and a face that
didn’t require much touching up.

He said you glow, boy. Now that means
something.

No it doesn’t, Gran.

Sure it does. It means he saw you. The
real you.

Christopher looked into the mirror as he dabbed on the
makeup. He’d canceled on Jesse a few hours earlier when it became clear that
Lash had no intention of sobering up for the performance.

Pulling the lightly tinted lip color from his stage makeup
bag and smearing it on his full lips, Christopher sorted through the mixed-up
complexity of his feelings about that. Part of him was disappointed since he
wanted to see what Jesse had cooked up for Gran’s locket. But the larger part
of him felt relief. He’d relived his impulsive decision to ask Jesse out
repeatedly. At first he’d been encouraged by the suggestion that he ask again
on another day, but later he’d started to think that it had been offered out of
pity.

Or maybe Jesse
was
straight, and didn’t
know how to handle being hit on by another guy. He’d said he was a fan—and
Christopher didn’t know anything about having fans. Maybe Jesse didn’t want to
burn bridges with a performer he liked.

And just what’s he going to get out of
kissing your ass? An impromptu concert? Don’t be silly, Christopher.

“Gee, thanks, Gran. Always so helpful,” he whispered under
his breath. He took out the brown eyeliner. He didn’t wear much, but it helped
his green eyes pop under the lights if he lined them just a little.

In the corner of his reflection, Christopher could see the
group of male ice dancers vying for a position in the mirror on the other side
of the room. Their tight asses and firm legs were all wrapped up in spandex.
They’d been imported from New York or Europe for the seasonal ice show, and
most of them were bigger princesses than any of the girls when it came to
looking their best and showing off their bodies.

“Makes you wanna start a diet, doesn’t it?” Shannon said.
His sometime singing partner showed up beside him in the reflection. She leaned
forward to rub her pinky finger over her lipsticked lips, and then flaw-checked
her dark skin. She slid her fingers through her newly straightened hair and
nodded happily at herself. He’d preferred her afro, but Shannon was convinced
she’d get more solo parts if she ditched the “African-American aesthetic.”
Christopher not only didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he didn’t like
the implication either. Still, it obviously wasn’t his place to question her
logic.

“Doesn’t it?” she asked again.

“What? My face?” Christopher asked. He didn’t have chiseled
cheek bones, but his face was attractive enough, in his opinion. It was
oval-going-on-heart-shaped, according to his stylist, and he had good lips and
nice, clear eyes. Still, he braced himself to be offended.

“No. Those guys. Look at them preening and waving their
skinny little bodies around like your Granny’s best handkerchief, all
daintiness and fairy dust.”

“They’re not dainty. They’re athletes. And they use up a lot
of calories, so of course they’re thin.” Christopher shrugged. “I don’t see the
appeal, though.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “They aren’t
your
type, I know that already. You like a man’s man. But you were looking at them
with those big eyes you get when you see something you want. Explain that.”

The truth was, he sometimes wondered if he
should
go on a diet or do
something
.
He wasn’t fat by far. He had a slim enough body, but he wasn’t built or
muscular. And he never would be. He’d developed an extreme aversion to gyms
when he was in high school. No matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able
to
not
see the hot guys in his class curling and
tensing as they lifted barbells, or threw basketballs, or jogged around the
track. And being unable to keep himself from springing a boner during P.E.
class had ensured his life was a terrifying hell every day of the school year.
Gyms still made him feel like he might have actual PTSD from it all.

“It was nothing.”

“Right. Nothing at all.” Shannon rolled her eyes. “I’ll own
it. They make me wish I was six inches shorter and looked half as graceful as
they do in a leotard.”

Shannon wasn’t a small woman. She was taller than him,
almost six-one to his five-nine, and her voice was even bigger than she was. He
was glad they were in different shows this season so he wouldn’t have to try to
keep up with her. It always left his vocal chords feeling tired and raw.

“Fine, I guess they make me feel that way too,” he admitted.
And maybe if he was more like
that
kind of gay, Jesse
would’ve said yes to coffee. Maybe he liked his men pretty.

You don’t even know if he likes men at
all, Christopher! Horses. Carts. What have I told you about how they work,
young man? There’s a natural order to things, and you’re breaking it. And it ain’t
because you’re gay!

“Shut it, Gran,” Christopher muttered.

“‘Scuse me?” Shannon sounded a little offended.

“Just talking to myself. Ignore me. I’m crazy today. That’s
all.”

“Ah. Thanks for the warning. Don’t worry about it—we all get
that way,” Shannon said. “Speaking of crazy, Drew and I are having a party up
at the cabin on Halloween. Consider yourself invited. Bring a plus one if you
want.” Then she moved away, taking off to an empty space at another mirror.

It was nice of Shannon to think he might have a plus one to
invite. He never had in the three years they’d known each other, but she never
failed to act like things might change.

Christopher double checked his appearance, pleased enough
with what he saw, and took off for his locker. Ten minutes until show time. Now
was when his hands started shaking, and his knees knocking, until the blessed
relief of being in the spotlight finally fell on him, and it all came together
in song and applause. In those moments, even the murmur of disappointment that
always greeted him when people were expecting Lash didn’t really touch him.

Backstage, staying away from the bustle of the stage hands
and the anxiety of the other performers, Christopher chanced a peek through the
side curtain. The outdoor theater house was packed, every seat filled, and some
people even stood along the back row. The temperature had dropped enough now
that the sun had set that they’d turned on the overhead heat lamps to keep the
crowd warm.

The opening notes from the band reached his ears. Lucy,
Austin, and Maria had already stepped into their places. Christopher rubbed his
shaking hands together, his eyes skimming the rapt audience as he listened for
his cue. Then his heart seemed to stop and stutter, squeezing extra hard in his
chest. He felt a burst of adrenaline so harsh that it seemed like a light might
shoot through the top of his head and pierce the night sky.

Jesse was in the audience. There he sat, merrily eating
popcorn in the first row of the second tier with his eyes trained on the stage.
He wore a light brown leather jacket and multi-colored scarf, and looked
absolutely gorgeous.

Christopher’s cue sounded, and he didn’t have time to think
about Jesse’s presence anymore. He walked onto the stage, hands up-turned, with
a smile on his face. Then he sang, his heart lifting with the notes. Maria’s
soprano took the moment even higher, until it felt like they might both take
flight.