Smoky Mountain Dreams (7 page)

If there was a groan of disappointment, he didn’t hear it,
and if most people in the audience were frowning because he wasn’t Lash, he
didn’t see, because his eyes kept falling back to where he knew Jesse sat.

After the show, Christopher didn’t follow the rest of the
cast back to the dressing rooms. He darted out from behind the curtain as the
theater started to empty, hoping Jesse would still be there. As he trotted down
the center aisle, he nodded and shook hands, thanking people who were excited
to see him after the performance.

By the time Christopher made it through the crowd to the
second tier, he was sure Jesse wouldn’t be there, but he was wrong. Gorgeous
and grinning Jesse sat in his seat, his legs crossed ankle-on-knee, still
eating from the small bucket of popcorn. He looked calm and collected, while
Christopher was a sweaty mess.

“Hi.” Jesse’s dark eyes glittered with amusement. He
indicated, with a wave of his hand, the people that Christopher had just
managed to escape. “And you said you didn’t have any fans.”

Christopher chuckled. “I don’t, but they were feeling
generous after enjoying the show more than they’d anticipated when it was me
instead of Lash that walked onto the stage.”

“Handshakes. Autographs. It sure looked like fans to me.”

Christopher rolled his eyes, but a goofy, pleased smile
broke over his face. If he hadn’t been so worried about missing Jesse, the
people clamoring for his attention
would
have been
pretty cool. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got a season pass.” Jesse said, grinning around his
popcorn.

“And you just thought tonight would be a good time to use
it?”

“Yep.”

“Interesting timing don’t you th—” Christopher broke off. An
older man, probably nearly seventy, had stopped next to him with an
outstretched hand.

“Good show, youngster,” he said, as Christopher held his
paper-thin grip. “You ain’t no Lash Hinkins but you ain’t bad. Nope, you ain’t
bad.”

“Thank you, sir,” Christopher said. “I’m happy to hear it.”

“He’s always glad to have a new fan,” Jesse chipped in, a
shit-eating smile on his face that made Christopher feel like he might start to
laugh just looking at him.

“Well, you can count me as one of those,” the man said,
patting Christopher on the shoulder. “And my wife too. She thought you were
real cute up there. Real cute.”

Jesse’s eyebrows went up and down, and Christopher had to
bite his cheek to keep his smile from morphing into a guffaw.

“Real cute indeed,” Jesse added.

Christopher felt his stomach leap at the blatant flirt. The
man looked confused by Jesse’s comment, but then he broke away toward the exit,
calling as he went, “Like I said, good job, young ‘un!”

“That’s two confirmed fans I’ve got now,” Christopher said,
wiping at the sweat on his upper lip, hoping he didn’t look like he was glowing
too
much from the perspiration. “You and him.”

“Three. Don’t forget his wife.”

Christopher laughed softly and shook his head. The crowd had
almost entirely dispersed, concentrated in small knots working to unravel out
the exits. “Seriously, you’re just here because you have a season pass? You
didn’t have anything better to do tonight?”

“Pretty much. I had this guy stand me up earlier. I mean, it
was just a work meeting, but I’d hoped we could get coffee after it was over. I
cleared my schedule and everything. But then he canceled, and I thought to
myself, you’ve got that Smoky Mountain Dreams pass and you haven’t been using
it nearly enough.” He shrugged. “I like to get my money’s worth. You know how
it goes.”

“You cleared your schedule?”

Jesse smiled. “Amanda made that easy for me. She’s helpful
like that.”

“For coffee? With me?”

“Yep. But I had to settle for a show starring you instead.
It was an okay trade, I guess. I enjoy seeing you on stage. On the negative
side, I didn’t really learn anything about you I didn’t already know.” He
narrowed his eyes, looking at Christopher closely. “Except that you look pretty
good in eyeliner.”

Christopher lifted a hand to rub at his eye. “I should wash
this off.”

“Or not,” Jesse shrugged and stood, tossing his popcorn bag
into a nearby garbage. “So what do you have to do now? Another show? Or…”

He realized they were nearly exactly the same height, and
tried to concentrate as he stared into Jesse’s warm eyes. “I’m through for the
night. Usually, I’d wash my face and go home. But…” Christopher noticed the
flicker of doubt in Jesse’s eye.

He wasn’t sure if it was worry that maybe Christopher wasn’t
as interested as Jesse had thought, or fear that Christopher had misjudged his
intentions altogether, putting a romantic spin on a friendly gesture.

Christopher took the plunge anyway. “I’m kind of hungry. I
don’t suppose you’re up for more park food? I eat for free. Which means you
could eat free too, if we play our cards right.”

Jesse stuck his hands into his jacket pockets and nodded
decisively. “I’m in.”

Up the Crick
was usually the
easiest place to get food once the shows for the night were over. It was near
the rear of the park, and most of the patrons had started drifting toward the
front exit. It was also Christopher’s favorite because it served actual
meals—baked beans, cornbread, turkey, and down-home mashed potatoes with the skin
mixed in—instead of hamburgers, hot dogs, and fried chicken nuggets.

“Hey, Darla!” Christopher called out, guiding Jesse over to
the trays. “Line still open?” Darla had been working at Up the Crick for years,
and she had never once closed shop early, no matter how empty. The question was
mostly a courtesy, and a gesture of appreciation.

“Yep! You getting the usual?” she asked starting to ring it
up and put in her code for the free employee meal.

“Well, I thought I’d get a little more this time,” Christopher
said, waving his hand at Jesse.

Darla bit her lip, gave Jesse a long up and down, and
nodded. “Fine. He gives enough money to the park anyway. One free meal is a
just reward.”

Christopher looked at Jesse in surprise as they started
filling their plates under Darla’s supervision. “Seriously, you come here often
enough that Darla recognizes you? You really do make good use of your season
pass.”

“Nah,” Darla said. “He comes regular, but that’s not how I
know ‘im.” Jesse was smiling at Darla with a wide grin, and Darla talked on, “I’ve
known Jesse since he was an ankle biter. My twin sister used to babysit him.
Remember that, Jesse? Back in the day?”

“Sure do,” Jesse said, scooping sweet potato onto the plate
on his tray. “Marla was my favorite babysitter ever. Gave us candy for dinner.”

“Your daddy paid her good, and she liked sittin’ for you and
your sis. How’s Amanda doin’ anyway?”

“She’s great. Happy, healthy, and all that jazz.”

Christopher stopped him. “Wait—Amanda from your studio. She’s
your sister?”

“For the last twenty-seven years,” Jesse grinned. “I had
five years to myself before she showed up.”

“Oh.” Christopher thought about the photo he’d seen in Jesse’s
office.
Not his sister, then.
“Why didn’t she just
say so the other day?”

Jesse shrugged. “She probably thought you knew. Everyone
knows everyone around here. It’s not anything we try to hide.”

“But people ‘round here know you a bit better than most, don’t
they, Jesse?” Darla smirked.

Christopher wasn’t sure if it was a nice smirk or a mean one.
He glanced at Jesse, but he didn’t look uncomfortable.

“I guess that’s probably right,” Jesse said.

Christopher set about filling his plate with his usual
choices, while Jesse added turkey, sweet potato casserole, and lemon meringue
pie to his tray.

Darla rang them up, typed in the code, and went back to
cleaning the place, but not before she grabbed Christopher’s sleeve and
whispered, “Catch of the century. No joke. But watch out. Damage follows him ‘round.”

Christopher wasn’t sure what to make of that mix of
encouragement and warning. Darla had never struck him as especially
homo-friendly, so he wasn’t surprised she was acting a little odd to see him
with another guy, on what might look like a date.

A date.

Christopher suddenly wondered if they were on one. It would
be helpful if he knew for sure whether or not Jesse even batted for his team.
Darla’s comment seemed to weigh down on the side of yes, and there was also the
fact that Jesse had referred to Christopher’s earlier cancellation as “being stood
up,” and the flirtatious looks he’d sent Christopher’s way.
And
he’d called him cute—hadn’t he? Or close enough.

Still, there was the photo he’d seen in Jesse’s office. He
couldn’t forget about it. The kids had looked enough like Jesse—the same nose
on one, the same face shape on the other—to be worrisome. He wondered if there
was a casual way to ask about it.
Hey, so, you got any
kids? More importantly, what about a wife?

Because kids? Kids he could do. A wife? Out of the question.

“Over there okay?” Jesse indicated a table far away from the
cash register and Darla’s potential snooping, and with a view of the orange and
purple Halloween lights, strung around the various buildings along Starlight
Way, and sparkling off the small man-made lake.

As they settled, Christopher caught the scent of spicy, warm
cologne, and he checked Jesse’s hand again. Still no ring, and no tan line
where a ring might have been removed.

“I grew up in Knoxville,” Christopher said softly enough
that Darla wouldn’t hear him. “It’s not as small as Gatlinburg, but it’s small
enough. I know what it’s like to run into people who knew you ‘when’ every time
you go out.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. He didn’t run into people
from his high school
every
time he went out— just
every time he was feeling especially shitty about himself or he had a massive
zit on his face. It was like clockwork.

“Yeah. It’s got its pluses and minuses,” Jesse said. “On the
plus side, I just got a free meal.”

Christopher grinned and nodded, digging into the baked
beans. He was always too nervous to eat before a show, and afterward he stuffed
his face in relief that everything had gone okay.

“On the minus side…” Jesse shrugged. “Well, the minus side
isn’t worth talking about.”

“How’s the turkey?” Christopher asked.

“Not bad.”

Christopher smiled again, taking in Jesse’s warm brown eyes
and the light sprinkle of chest hair that peeked from the top of his button-up
shirt. Even if Jesse wasn’t gay and nothing came of it, sitting with him wasn’t
a bad way to spend some time. He sure was good to look at.

“How’d you end up here?” Jesse asked.

“Where? Gatlinburg? Or SMD?”

“I take it SMD is short for Smoky Mountain Dreams?”

“Yeah. SMD’s just easier, especially during long meetings
where they want to review changes to rules and regulations. You know how it
goes.” Christopher mimed a little yawn. “Anything to get out of there even a
few seconds earlier.”

“Understood.” Jesse took another bite of turkey.

“Well, it’s a long story,” Christopher said, not wanting to
go into his failures and humiliations so soon. Not on the first…not on whatever
this was. Friend or maybe more than friend, Jesse was successful,
well-traveled, and handsome. Christopher didn’t want to admit he’d never
managed to really leave Tennessee. A few vacations at the beach didn’t
count—not when he was sitting across the table from a man who had, according to
the pictures in his studio, gone all over the world.

Then again, he wasn’t sure what was worse—a story where
Smoky Mountain Dreams was the pinnacle of his ambition, or one where he’d tried
for something bigger only to fall hard on his ass and have to return home. At
least failing in Nashville wasn’t really failing.
Everyone
failed in Nashville at least once. Just because he didn’t want to go for a second
round, didn’t mean he was a complete loser, right?

“My mom’s family’s from Gatlinburg. Her mom is my Gran. She
and I have always been really close. Which you probably guessed.”

“The locket,” Jesse said, nodding.

“Yeah. There was this time in my life when things were bad.
And my Gran suggested I move up here to live with her for a while. But before I
could, she fell and broke both her hips. I ended up living in her house anyway
when I got the job at SMD. She’s in an assisted living facility down in Knoxville
now.”

“Is the house the thing you can’t ever repay her for?”

“That and so much more, really. She always protected me,”
Christopher said, looking down, not wanting to see Jesse’s face when he said
it. “From my stepfather. From my mom. I mean, they didn’t hurt me. Physically.
But you know how it can be in the South.”

“They’re conservative Christians?”

“That’s a polite way to put it. Given their beliefs, I tend
to call them motherfucking lunatics.”

“Ah,” Jesse said, softly. “That sucks. A lot.”

Christopher wondered if Jesse knew exactly what he was
talking about, or if he was just assuming it was a difference in religious
beliefs that had been irresolvable and nothing more than that.

“Anyway, when I got back from Nashville—”

“You went to Nashville?”

“What kid doesn’t try Nashville?”

Jesse seemed to hear the wound in Christopher’s voice and he
cocked his head a little, his eyes soft and empathetic as he reached out to
touch Christopher’s hand.

An electric spark jolted through Christopher at the contact and
he pulled his hand away, both embarrassed and hungry for more. “Anyway, when I
got back, I needed some income and a place to live. My Gran suggested I go out
for a position here at SMD. I got the job and she offered for me to stay in her
house. Then she fell, and the rest is history.”