Home for the Holidays: Mr Frosty Pants, Mr Naughty List

by Leta Blake

  “Why didn’t you tell us you invited him, honey?” his mother asked. It sounded like she was trying to be lighthearted, but her voice was tense around the edges in a way that caught the attention of the other guests around them.

  Casey slid in beside his mother, feeling flushed and breathless. Irritated and excited all at once. “Joel. You came.”

  “And I shouldn’t have, according to your old man.”

  “Young man, that’s not what I said. I simply didn’t realize an invitation had been issued. That’s all. Casey should have told us. Your mother asked for RSVPs, son.”

  “So did the guy who ran the inn where Mary and Joseph dropped by,” Joel said tightly. “He was big into RSVPs apparently.”

  “Come in, Joel,” Casey’s mother said brightly, glancing at the guests who were going quiet to listen in all around them. “Don’t be silly, Jonathan. RSVPs aren’t that important in this day and age. We have plenty of food and drink. I’m sure Casey knew that, and of course you’re welcome here.” She took the bottle of wine from Joel and said overly sweetly, “Oh, this is lovely. Thank you for bringing it. I’ll just go put it with the rest to be served out tonight.”

  Joel stepped over the threshold slowly, as though it might be a test and a steel trap might snap around him at any second.

  Casey’s father clapped Joel on the shoulder and shook his hand, but somehow it came across as a warning more than a welcome. Casey glared at his dad, but Jonathan Stevens had already turned his attention to another guest, and he moved across the room with single-minded focus.

  The rest of the guests went back to their regularly scheduled conversations, and Courtney engaged Walker Ronson, taking him by the elbow and moving him away from Casey and Joel.

  “Hey,” Casey said softly in the dubious privacy of his parents’ suddenly empty entryway. He wrapped an arm around Joel’s shoulder and pulled him into an awkward hug. Joel was stiff in his arms and pushed his hands firmly against Casey’s chest, keeping them about half a foot apart.

  “Hey.” Joel moved out of Casey’s grasp. “You should have seen their faces when they opened the door and saw me instead of one of their hoity-toity rich pals.”

  “You look amazing.”

  Joel glanced down at his black jeans and tugged the cuffs of his pressed shirt from beneath the sleeves of his sports jacket. He adjusted his silk, paisley-patterned tie.

  Casey kept his arm around Joel’s shoulders and steered him away from the main rooms and toward the side stairs that led up to the bedrooms. He wanted to get Joel alone, kiss him, and check him over for damage before sharing him with anyone else.

  “Oh, so he gets to go upstairs. I see how it is now,” Walker said from where he leaned in the doorway to the dining room. He’d apparently gotten away from Courtney, and he smirked at them, his wine refilled and his eyes amused. He stepped forward with his hand out to Joel. “Walker Ronson, and it looks like you’re stealing my date.”

  “Joel Vreeland.” Joel’s eyes narrowed as he shook Walker’s hand. “And are you sure he’s you’re your date? I thought he was mine.”

  “Just a misunderstanding,” Casey said, smiling at Walker. “I’m really sorry. My mom wasn’t aware that I already had a date for the night.”

  “It’s a shame. For me, of course. A stroke of luck for you,” Walker said to Joel with a smirk.

  “I’m the lucky one,” Casey said, putting his hand on Joel’s lower back. He was relieved when Joel didn’t move away from it but instead scooted closer to Casey’s side.

  “I’ll manage.” Walker winked, lifting his glass their way. “Guess I’ll get back to working the room. Nice to meet you, Joel.”

  Casey sighed in relief as Walker headed back into the living area to join the people mingling there. He herded Joel up the stairs to the guest room serving as his room and shut the door behind them. “Oh God, I’m so glad you’re here.” He pulled Joel close, burying his face in Joel’s hair. “You smell so good.”

  Joel chuckled in his arms. “You smell pretty okay too.”

  “Why did you come?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t going to, but then Angel’s insanely hot stepbrother asked me to go a party with him, and all I could think was that if I was going to any party, it was going to be this one, with you.”

  “Her stepbrother is insanely hot?” A curl of jealousy started in his gut.

  “Smoking. Like ‘holy crap, how are you not a movie star?’ kind of hot.” Joel pulled back, gazed at Casey’s sweater for a minute, and then broke into a sly grin. “You’re with me, huh?”

  The jealousy died, and Casey puffed out his chest. “I am. And I’m proud of it.”

  “Are you ready to face the music?” Joel said, nodding toward the door.

  “First I want to show you something. I was going to save it as a surprise for later, but now’s a good time. And I can keep you to myself for a few minutes longer.”

  Joel followed him across the room toward the laptop resting on the desk by the window that looked out on the lake. He got Joel seated in the chair and leaned over his shoulder as he woke the computer and clicked his way to what he wanted to show him first.

  “What do you think?” Casey asked. Anxiety balled up in his chest next to excitement and hope. He felt like he had as a kid in Joel’s garage, watching Joel play and hoping he’d get to stay.

  “You made this? A new cover for my book?” Joel leaned a little closer to the screen. “It’s so…professional.”

  “I took some digital arts classes in college and, obviously, my focus is on marketing and branding. I loved what I read of your book, but—don’t take this the wrong way—I only bought it because you wrote it. The current cover doesn’t do a great job representing what’s inside. This one is so much tighter and thrilling than what you currently have. I thought, maybe, if you were willing, you’d let me redesign all your covers for you. Make them more exciting, memorable, and marketable.”

  Joel stared at the screen in silence for a long moment, and Casey had a horrifying feeling that maybe he’d overstepped. But then Joel sighed. “I don’t know what to say. I made the other cover myself with my limited skills, and I know it sucks. But I can’t afford to pay you what this kind of work is worth, no matter how much I love it.”

  Casey’s heart rose. This objection he could handle. “You’d be helping me actually, if you’d let me do this—and more—for you. I have a pretty easy course load next semester, but one of my classes requires that I implement a branding and marketing effort and track the results. I was thinking of offering free help to one of the many small-time actors in New York, maybe help them get a better Facebook presence, a cool website, and a tighter resume, but that didn’t really correlate to what I want to do after I graduate. But this—you, the books, and Vreeland’s—does. And you’d be able to report back to me about any change in profits and income stream for real, dynamic data to track my results.”

  “So, you’re saying you want to make new covers for me for free?”

  “That and more. I’d do covers, set up a website, get you going on Facebook—”

  “I hate social media.”

  “A lot of creative types do, but you can’t opt out of it if you want to succeed. It’s okay if you don’t want to do it yourself. I could run it for you at first.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look.” Casey stood at Joel’s side and clicked around the Internet, showing Joel the websites and Facebook pages of indie horror authors he’d found who seemed to be pulling in a strong income, given that they’d given up their day jobs in order to write. “All of these folks have healthy social media accounts and online presence. They solicit reviews from sites and promote those reviews. They have a Twitter.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Look, just give me a chance. You’d be helping me more than you know. And I could do the same thing for Vreeland’s. I haven’t mocked anything up, but with some work on ads and online presence, I think we could get the store
’s profitability up in six months’ time, easily.”

  Joel laughed. “Says the college boy who’s never done any of this in the real world for a day in his life.”

  “Tell me what you have to lose,” Casey said, turning to Joel seriously.

  Joel took control of the laptop then and clicked back to the new cover Casey had made for his werewolf book. He stared at it for a few moments. “Okay. Let’s start with books. If I see an increase in profit there after a month or so, I’ll give you leave on Vreeland’s too.”

  Casey grinned. “You like this cover, don’t you?”

  “It’s like you read my mind. It’s what I saw in my head when I wrote the book. It’s perfect.”

  Casey puffed up. “I’m going to do a great job for you. I believe in your books, Joel. And I believe in Vreeland’s. Thank you for trusting me to help you.”

  “I thought I was helping you.” Joel raised a brow.

  “You are. I’ve been dreading trying to find some narcissistic actor to try to spiff up. This is so much more my speed. This is the kind of thing I want to do.”

  “Yeah,” Joel agreed. “I remember when you had that sketchbook full of doodles. Half of them were re-imagined ads for local businesses. You always loved thinking about this sort of thing.”

  “And I love doing it.”

  Joel swallowed hard. “I feel like I should offer you something, though. Like a piece of any increase of profit. Twenty-five percent.”

  “I don’t need money, Joel.”

  “I don’t want to feel like a charity case.”

  “You’re not, you’re doing me a—”

  “I know.” Joel cut him off and leaned against him. “Thank you.”

  Casey put his arm around Joel. “I’m ready to go downstairs now if you are. I want to show you off.”

  Joel glanced around the room like he might jump out one of the windows to escape going back downstairs, but then put his shoulders back. “I’m ready.”

  “Can I say you’re my boyfriend?”

  “Probably safer than calling me the love of your life and personal sex god.”

  Casey grabbed Joel close against him. “You are, you know.”

  “Your personal sex god? Of course. I’m pretty good for being so recently a virgin,” Joel said, smirking. “Just wait until I have a few years of experience under my belt.”

  “The love of my life.”

  “You can’t just say things like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t mean them.”

  “But I do. I mean everything I say to you.”

  A knock came at the door then, and Casey pulled away reluctantly. He wanted to tip Joel’s head back and kiss him until Joel felt how much he meant his words, but instead he crossed the room and yanked the door open to see who’d disturbed them.

  “Mom. Hey.”

  “Your father would like you and your guest to come downstairs,” she said tightly. She didn’t smile, and her eyes bore into him with the “you’re in trouble, young man” look he remembered from childhood.

  “Why?”

  “It isn’t seemly to have you and your…friend…alone upstairs when everyone knows you’re gay, dear. You wouldn’t want people to gossip about Joel, would you? Don’t put him in an awkward position like that.”

  “Like what?” Joel asked, coming to stand just behind Casey.

  “People will make assumptions. They already are. There’s talk downstairs that you’re Casey’s date, and I know you don’t want that getting around.” She smiled again, all faux brightness and even more faux concern.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Joel asked.

  His mother tilted her head. “Because you aren’t gay, honey.” Then, more slowly, like Joel was stupid, “People will think you’re gay.”

  “I am gay,” Joel said, lifting his chin. “And I am Casey’s date. We’re together. And I do want people to know that.”

  “I see.” She blinked hard and fast for a moment and then spun on her heel. “Regardless, your father wants you downstairs. Now.”

  “You didn’t tell her?” Joel whispered as he followed Casey from the room.

  “It wasn’t my news to share. Besides, it’s not her business anyway. Or it wasn’t until you were ready for it to be.”

  Downstairs, many of the party guests bordered on intoxicated, and the trio of classical guitarists up on the living room balcony had moved on to playing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

  Casey grinned at Joel and whispered, “Here we go. Are you ready?”

  “I guess I better be,” Joel said, smiling strangely as Tawnie Dobbins, the company’s CFO, approached with her hand outstretched and obviously looking for an introduction. “Hi, I’m Joel Vreeland.” And then, before Casey could say a word, he added, “Casey’s boyfriend.”

  Joy was a brilliant emotion, bright and almost blinding. Casey put his arm around Joel to steady himself as he almost burst with it.

  Joel sat in a ridiculously comfortable chair in the corner of Casey’s parents’ living room, sipping an amazing glass of wine and eating from a small plate of cheese Casey had brought to him. To his right was Walker Ronson, chatting endlessly to another young man about golf and the price of cable television ad spots in the age of streaming media. It wasn’t boring so much as soothing, a running pitter-patter of pleasant noise that lacked any sharp edges or wicked points.

  Unlike some of the other conversations he’d overheard that night. Especially with Casey’s mother.

  “Joel is Casey’s special friend,” he’d heard Mrs. Stevens whispering pointedly to one of her friends. “A real step down from Theo, I know, but we assume he’s a rebound relationship.”

  Her friend had looked Joel up and down and murmured, “Lord knows we’ve all had one of those.”

  He’d almost said, “I can hear you, you realize,” but he didn’t want to upset Casey, and what had he expected? A “welcome to the family” hug? Of course not. The shock and outrage had been half of why he’d come. Though the idea of it had been a lot more fun that the reality. It turned out that maybe he really did want to be loved and accepted by the people close to Casey. Who’d have thunk it?

  How annoying.

  He sipped the wine again and thought back to the moment he’d seen the cover Casey had mocked up for his werewolf book. He still worried about not paying Casey for the work, but he couldn’t afford it, and something had ignited in him when he saw that cover. It’d been so perfect for the story—so professional and real. For the first time since he’d hit publish on his first book, he truly felt like an author and not just an imposter pretending to be a writer.

  How was it possible that Casey could come back into his life and turn it around after just a few days? But he had, and every moment things kept getting better. It was more than Joel ever thought he’d have and more than he deserved. It was worth putting up with all the catty comments from Casey’s mother and more.

  As his eyes swept over the room again, looking for Casey, he caught the eye of Casey’s aunt instead. He’d always liked Courtney when he was younger. She’d been nice to him back then. He straightened up and smiled as she headed in his direction. He hoped she’d be nice to him now.

  “You’ve got our little Casey swoony as a lovesick schoolboy,” Courtney said, dropping into the chair next to him, a pink, foamy cocktail in hand. Her red dress poofed around her thighs, and she smoothed it down as she grinned at him from between glossy, ruby lips. “Are you equally smitten?”

  “He’s cool. I like him,” Joel said, shrugging. “I could do worse.”

  Courtney laughed, tossing her head back as she did. “So it’s love then.”

  Joel smiled into his wine. It’d been the weirdest few days of his life. He didn’t know what to say. “A Christmas miracle is more like it.”

  And just like a Christmas miracle, unlikely to outlive the holidays. But it was nice to believe. To let them both believe for a little while. And, maybe if they were lucky…r />
  Not that Joel had ever been lucky a day in his life.

  Sitting close to the gas fireplace and thinking of the chances that he’d be fortunate enough to make this work with Casey, sweat slipped down the side of his face.

  “So, you run your old man’s store now?” Courtney asked.

  “I do.”

  “It’s probably a good investement, too,” Courtney said. “In Atlanta, some of the older mom-and-pop stores are really making a comeback. My friend Mark’s parents just sold their home-and-garden place to a young hipster couple hoping to keep it going. They’ve retired on the profit they made.”

  “Oh yeah?” Joel tilted his head, an inkling of an idea scratching at his mind. “How long had they been in business?”

  “It’s warm in here,” Courtney said, fanning herself with one hand as she took another sip of her drink. “Do you want to step outside for some fresh air, and we can keep talking?”

  “Sure.” He looked around for Casey but didn’t see him. “He said he was going to the bathroom. But that was a while ago.”

  “He probably got waylaid by a mouthy guest on his way back. He’ll find you. Don’t worry.” Courtney led the way toward the French doors that opened to the back porch. The reflection in the windows along the back of the house showed the party was winding down, as guests had dropped off through the night.

  “Oh, let me grab my coat,” Courtney said as she pulled open the door. “I’ll meet you out there.”

  Joel stepped onto the porch and took a slow, deep breath. The night air cleaved through the stuffy heat of his lungs, and he sighed, wishing desperately for a cigarette.

  “He lives in a trailer, Casey. A filthy, rundown trailer.”

  “It’s not filthy, Dad. For God’s sake, you don’t even know him.”

  Joel’s heart stopped. Casey and Mr. Stevens’s voices rose from the patio beneath the porch.

  “You think I don’t know this boy? I was this boy. Or could have been.” Mr. Stevens’s voice shook with anger. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to climb up out of the poverty I was born into? And now you’re asking me to just watch you turn around and climb into bed with it? No. Absolutely not.”