“I’m glad you made it,” Burns told Karl.

“A party with your parents? How could I miss it? I wasn’t sure if bringing a bottle of wine would be appropriate, so I didn’t bring anything.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if Reverend Ron would approve.”

He lead Karl into the living room, where his mother had set up the buffet table, although there was nothing on it yet but plates and silverware. Karl balked. “How many people did you say were coming?”

“It kind of expanded, when people heard about it. Lots of people from their church.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go sit in that corner over there and hide.”

“Tommy? Can you help me with the vegetable plate?” His mom poked her head out of the kitchen door. “Oh, I see your friend is here. Hello, Karl. How are your parents?”

“They’re fine, Mrs. Burns. Do you need some help, or can Tommy carry everything?”

Burns elbowed Karl in the ribs, and they both went into the kitchen to help.

It was okay. He was in his element. A bunch of people that he had to hide his personal life from…in some ways, that was easier than one-on-one. It would’ve been even easier with a few drinks inside him.

Come to think of it, that wasn’t a bad idea. Karl was helping with bringing out the plates, so Burns excused himself and ran upstairs.

His family weren’t teetotalers, exactly; the annual Christmas party usually featured a spiked eggnog (he used to sneak a cup of it when he was little), and his dad enjoyed a few beers with his football. But his parents probably would not have approved of the bottle of whiskey he kept in his closet for nights when life got him too far down to bear.

Funny how his mom hated Karl, yet Karl was the one downstairs being helpful and respectful, while Burns was up here twisting the top off the bottle for a nerve-soothing drink.

Karl was looking sharp tonight, too. He’d actually dressed for the party, a soft gray suit, no tie, open collar, shirt untucked but purposefully so. Hair slicked to the side.

Would you stop thinking about Karl for one fucking second?

The whiskey was hot on his throat, and he gulped down another swallow, coming off for a breath.

The problem with trying to ignore a thought was that it only made the thought come back stronger. That didn’t make it real. He wasn’t attracted to Karl. He was just bugged by the idea of it. His mind knew how to get to him, how to torture himself. Why aren’t you attracted to Karl? What’s wrong with him?

Shut up. He’s my best friend, and I would never wreck the friendship by bringing in that…that element.

One more swallow, and he went to the bathroom, brushing his teeth violently to get the scent of alcohol off his breath. White foam covered his lips as he jabbed the toothbrush at himself. He looked rabid. His eyes were limned with wetness after the whiskey.

He had been too energetic; toothpaste fell onto his shirt. “Goddamn it,” he said. He ran some warm water in the sink, got a washcloth wet, and dabbed at his shirt.

Karl wasn’t even interested in men. They’d been friends for a while now, and Karl had never brought up being attracted to guys. It was the sort of thing that would come up in conversation, right? Hell, they talked about everything else, why not that? Simon, his brother, was gay. He knew that. But Karl?

The toothpaste wasn’t coming off his shirt. The more he scrubbed, the more it soaked into the fabric.

It looks like you came on yourself.

Shut up. He sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. Huge wet spot on his front. Ridiculous. He yanked it off and threw it in his laundry hamper.

“Oh, there you are,” said Karl. “Your mom was worried about you.”

“What, I can’t go to the bathroom?” Burns asked. He hoped his voice wasn’t slurring. He felt a little off-balance.

Karl glanced down at Burns’ naked chest. “It must have been quite a bathroom trip. Your guests are arriving.”

“Shit. Yeah, I have to change shirts.”

Stay. Stare at me the way I stared at you. Watch me as I move. I spent so long turning this body into something I could be proud of.

“Clearly. Anyway, your dad had to go out and get more napkins, so you and I are playing waiter. As soon as you quit your nudist phase up here, come on back down.”

Stay.

He watched Karl head downstairs, heard his mother’s voice, the chattering of multiple people. He felt angry and disappointed, as though he’d been cheated of something, a chance at something, although he could not have said exactly what that was.

Did you think you might fuck him up here in your bed while the party went on downstairs?

He grabbed his head, as though he could shake all the thoughts out of it, and groaned, tormented.

He could do this. This is what he was best at. Be a good boy for the folks. In his room he pulled out a clean shirt and buttoned it up. Checked his hair. Gave the mirror a playful grin. He thought about putting his cap on, but that was going too far. Tucked his shirttails in.

Showtime.

* * *

“There’s my boy!” said Reverend Ron, grayer than when Burns had last been to church, but still tall and imposing, with the kind of square-jawed face that could have made him a great car salesman.

You can ask God to lift the burden from you, Ron had said all those years ago. He doesn’t make people gay, Tommy. Satan sets temptations all around, but God can rescue you from them.

Burns felt like a rabbit must feel when he hears the hawk descending.

Ron slapped Burns’ hand between both of his own, a double-handed shake full of affection. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Tommy.”

“He likes to be called Burns now,” said Burns’ dad.

“Really? All right then, Burns.” The preacher clapped him on the shoulder. “Let me introduce you to somebody. Re-introduce you. Burns, this is my daughter Delia.”

He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting. A young girl in gingham and curls? Maybe a televangelist-looking girl with tall sprayed hair and thick foundation?

Whatever it had been, it wasn’t the woman who greeted him. She wore a black sweater, baggy and knee-length, with sleeves that came down far enough to cover her hands, although when she shook hands with him, her sleeve rode up, and he could see dark tattoos peeking out. Her makeup was limited to smoky eyes and dark, blackberry-colored lips.

“So, you’re the big famous Tommy Burns,” she said. “Your tale lives on in story and song.”

“I…what?”

Her face tightened. “It was a joke. My dad has been talking about you since I got here. Remember when you were little, and you used to… I was like, Dad, I saw him one day a week, in Sunday School.”

He glanced around the room. Karl was nowhere to be found. He felt nervous; the whiskey was working, and he was feeling loose, but loose might have been the wrong choice, because he needed to be on his guard. Say something nice.

“You’ve…certainly grown up,” he said.

“People do that. Everybody does, really. Unless they die tragically as teens or whatever.”

“You don’t look like a preacher’s daughter,” he found himself saying. Where the hell are you, Karl? Save me, man!

“Trust me, I’ve been hearing that since I got home. My mom picked out a sun dress for me to wear. I was like, it’s not even spring yet, and got a lecture about how the people of Cray’s Quarry have certain expectations. Do they serve any booze at these soirees?”

Karl finally showed, looking grumpy. “Dude, would you please help your mom? If I have to lug out one more tray of canapes, I’m going to poison them all.”

Delia brightened up. “Who’s your friend, Tommy?”

Karl peered at her. “Are you wearing that new Glacee color?”

Now she was really smiling, puckering, making a kissy face at Karl. “I love Glacee so much. Yeah, this is Holographic Onyx Berry.”

“It’s so shiny,” said Karl.

“This is my friend Karl,” said Burns. “I thought his only interests were politics, economics, and offending the hell out of local businesspeople, but apparently he’s also into lipstick. Live and learn.”

She laughed and said, “Oh, that sounds so boring. Are you boring too, Tommy? You look like you spend all day at the gym, but they tell me you’re a big outdoorsman.”

Please don’t be interesting, Delia. Please don’t make jokes. Look at Karl, he’s fascinated by you. I can’t have this. Be judgmental, be cold.

“I guess I’m going to go help Mom,” he said. “Karl has promised he’s not going to offend your dad. Will you hold him to that?”

Delia grabbed Karl by the arm. “I’ll keep him by my side at all times. Now Karl, Glacee’s eye shadows, in my opinion, are subpar, but I need you to tell me…”

The kitchen door closed behind him. Was it hot in here? Maybe his folks had turned up the thermostat?

You’re drunk.

No, that wasn’t possible. He’d only had one swallow.

Two?

He tried to remember.

Shit.

He was going to humiliate himself. It wasn’t fair.

“Darling, I think I’ve burned these chicken wings,” said his mom. He looked up. She was in her Sunday dress, covered with an apron, poking at a pan with her tongs. “Would you try one?”

“They look fine to me,” he said. Eating seemed like a dangerous idea right now.

She looked around, as though making sure no one could eavesdrop. “I’m very surprised about how Delia turned out.”

“She’s hitting it off with Karl right now.”

“That’s just what I mean, dear. I always thought she was a nice girl. Did you see that she has a tattoo? It’s creeping up the back of her neck.” His mom shuddered.

“More than one,” he said.

“I suppose young ladies just dress differently up in the city. But I’m surprised her mother didn’t make her wear something other than that baggy sweater. Listen to me, I sound so judgmental. I don’t mean to be. How do you like her?”

“I… We only talked for thirty seconds.”

“Reverend Ron took me aside when they came in. He tells me she is definitely single. I do hope she can fit in here, Tommy. Cray’s Quarry isn’t like the city. She’ll have to tone all that down. But you’ll show her, right? You’ll introduce her to people, let her see what flies in a town like this?”

A wave of sick dizziness twisted the room. He left his mother worrying over her wings, gripping the doorway. The floor was sliding underneath him. A dream, this was all a dream.

He kept his movements slow and careful. Act normal.

Karl was talking to Delia…and the Reverend. His heart sank.

“…so the idea is, tax the land, rather than workers! It would save everybody a ton of money, and you could finance a lot of good projects, like healthcare—”

“I hope Karl isn’t bothering you, Rev,” said Burns.

Ron shook his head. “Not at all. I think that’s fascinating, young man. What about you, Delia?”

She rolled her eyes. “If I tell you what I think, I’ll have to hear about it all the way home.”

Ron grabbed Burns’ arm, pulling him closer. “Listen to her! Oh, it’s good to have her home again. Now Burns, I hope I’m not out of line here, but your mom mentioned you might be interested in showing Delia around town this weekend—”

“Dad!” cried Delia.

“Well, about that,” began Burns, trying to remember what he’d planned to say if the topic came up, but the room was still swimming, and Reverend Ron seemed awfully tall, and Burns’ stomach was twisting with acid and whiskey.

“I thought we were going camping this weekend?” said Karl. “We’ve been planning it all month.”

“That’s right,” said Burns, a beat behind.

“Oh, where do you boys camp?” asked the preacher.

“Cray land,” said Karl. “My brother’s landed one of the Cray boys as a fiance, so we’ve got free run of the place.”

Delia beamed, and Reverend Ron stiffened up.

“I…see,” he said. “Well, if you have plans, perhaps Delia can take a raincheck.”

“Unless she wants to come with?” asked Karl. “We’ll be fishing, which is kind of gross, but it’s in pretty country.”

Reverend Ron didn’t like that one bit. “Delia, perhaps I could speak to you for a moment.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Father.” She followed after him.

Burns looked at Karl. “You saved me.”

Karl shrugged. “I’m your best friend. Remember that, the next time I need a favor. Which I might need, soon. Simon’s trying to get me a job with—”

“Actually, could you hold that thought?” asked Burns. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”