Chapter 7
Casey Joe
“Casey is really good with stuff like that,” Jack said as Bryce and I sat at the bar savoring slices of Jack’s newest cake along with matching cocktails expertly mixed by Henry. “He taught me how to change the oil in his truck, he’ll help you get the gym ready in no time.”
“I’m not a licensed contractor or anythin’,” I started, but Bryce shook his head.
“You’re a thousand times more in the know than I am, so I’m already feeling much better about getting these projects started.”
We’d taken inventory of the gym before lunch.
With a notebook in hand, we’d jotted notes and lists of supplies we’d need.
There was a lot to do before Armstrong Health & Fitness would be operable, but the inside of the building wasn’t as rundown as I’d expected it to be.
It needed a major cleaning and overhaul, but we’d get it in tip-top shape.
I couldn’t put my finger on why I felt as comfortable with Bryce as I did with Lance and my boys when I’d just met the guy—especially when I didn’t click with most people very easily—but it had been nice to have someone to hang out with.
Not gonna lie, it kinda sucked to be the odd man out with Hudson, Lance, Henry, and Jack all paired up.
Was it confusing the shit out of me trying to pinpoint why Bryce was so easy to talk to?
Hell, yeah.
Had I decided to not question it?
Also, yes.
“Speaking of projects,” Henry started, his eyes landing on Jack in a go on gesture.
Jack’s cheeks pinked. “It might be stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. I think a lot of people would be interested.”
Jack brought his collar up to rub over his chin—a nervous gesture he’d stopped doing as much, but something he still did from time to time if he was feeling anxious—and took a deep breath.
“Okay, fine. I was thinking about starting something…kinda like a club…not any specific theme or anything. Like for socializing. Or something.” He took another breath. “I don’t explain it right.”
“For baking? Or like a book club or somethin’? The church has a Bible study and a yarn club for knitting and crochet,” I said.
Jack nodded his head. “Kinda like that, but without a single focus. So, just a group of people coming together to socialize. No assigned book. No verses to read and analyze. No patterns or recipes or projects. Just people from around town who want to grab a drink or snack and sit around chatting.” He shrugged.
“Maybe we’d do some special fundraising or volunteer type stuff when we see needs arise.
And we can talk about anything and everything—books, recipes, movies, hobbies, all of it.
” He ran the shirt collar over his chin again as he worried his lip between his teeth.
“I don’t know, I just thought it might be fun.
I’m comfortable enough in town now to want to get to know people better.
I figure other people might like the chance too. ”
“I like the idea,” Bryce said. “I don’t know anyone, and in my line of business it’s best to get to know people if I want to bring them in and have them trust me with their health and fitness.”
I loved that Jack had come up with this idea. Not because I liked the idea of socializing just for the sake of socializing, but because he was spreading his wings, and I was proud as hell. “Where would you hold it? How often? Food? Drinks? Membership?”
Jack gave me a relieved smile. “The outside dining area when it’s not too hot or too cold.
In the hottest and coldest months, I think we can make it work inside the Roadhouse.
Depends on how many folks come. I was thinking folks could bring in snacks if they wanted.
We’d do samples from time to time. Offer discounted drinks and food for those who want to order.
” He cocked his head. “I don’t think membership will be required.
Maybe donations if people feel like they want to help out, but I don’t want anyone to be left out just because they can’t pay a fee. ”
Jack might not have been my flesh and blood, but somehow, he’d ended up just as generous and big-hearted as both my boys.
“If it gets too big,” Bryce said, “may be able to move it to the church or the school. Maybe have it at different times on different days so a variety of people can join in. The gym doesn’t have any kind of outside area yet, but at some point it might.
You’d be welcome to that space once we get it set up. ”
“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding, “those are good ideas. I was thinking maybe every other week? And I think it should be pretty casual. No set agenda, just milling around and talking. If we see it needs more structure, we can always adjust.”
“I like it,” I said. “Probably not somethin’ I’d attend on my own, but if we’re puttin’ the Riggs name behind it, I’m down to help with it.
” Honestly, I wasn’t one for organized socializing, but for Jack, I’d make an exception.
I liked talking to folks around town, so it wouldn’t be hard to meet up, eat some cake, and shoot the shit.
“Tell ’em what you want to call it,” Henry said with a hint of teasing in his words.
Jack’s cheeks pinked again, but he smiled. “The Lemon Drop Social Club.”
I laughed, and Henry grinned as he leaned over the bar to press a kiss to Jack’s lips.
Bryce looked confused.
“Peaches are our bread and butter here in Haven Grove,” I explained. “But this one,” I put an arm around Jack and ruffled his hair, “is all about lemon. Especially Lemon Drops, so it’s a perfect name.”
Jack shrugged. “I like peach, I just like Lemon Drops better.”
“It’s a good name, I like it,” Bryce said. “Count me in for participating. Do you think we’d need any rules or anything like that?”
Jack pursed his lips. “I think maybe a couple ground rules like being polite, respecting different lived experiences, no drinking and driving, stuff like that. If we find out loose rules aren’t going to cut it, we can put something more official into place.”
“I think,” I started, “you probably need to do somethin’ along the lines of no hate of any kind. Let Preacher Holmes and his minions know they aren’t welcome if they’re going to be spewing anythin’ other than acceptance and love.”
Bryce gave me a look I couldn’t decipher.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head.
We talked a bit more about Jack’s new endeavor, finished off our cake and cocktails, and headed out the door.
The day was bright, the sun warm, and a hint of crispness danced on the air.
Fall would be here before we knew it. Which meant cold, snow, and ice would be just around the corner.
But for the time being, I took a deep breath and enjoyed the heavy, fragrant scent of summer’s last hurrah on the breeze.
“I love that everything is pretty much within walking distance around here. Makes for good exercise, less wear and tear on my car, better for the environment,” Bryce paused and took in a deep breath, “…plus, the sunshine and fresh air are good for the soul.”
“It’s nice when it’s not blazin’ hot, freezin’ cold, or pourin’ rain,” I groused. “Fall and spring are the best times in Haven Grove, but summer’s not too bad. Humidity will kill ya, and the thunderstorms can be wicked.”
“Get many tornadoes lately? I remember sitting in the basement at home quite a few times as a kid,” Bryce said.
“Thunderstorms—bad wind, hail, lightning…a strike nearly took Hudson out in the orchard not too long ago…those are more prevalent, but we get our fair share of tornadoes being in Tornado Alley. It’s been a while since Haven Grove dealt with any twisters, but a few have gone through just about every spring in towns and counties all around us.
” As we reached the gym, I pulled the door open.
“I remember a few far into the fall, too.”
“Tornadoes scare the fuck out of me.”
“You lived in a place that had earthquakes. No warnin’, just bam your whole world is shakin’ the shit out of everything.”
Bryce chuckled. “Yeah, those are shit too. Had plenty of little ones in my time out there. Only maybe one big one. Hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, fires, they’re all so damn destructive. For some reason, a tornado scares me the most.”
“Well, we’re lucky we get good internet service for the most part here in town, and our warnin’ siren seems to work right. We’ll at least get a heads up if one’s headin’ this way.” I picked up the notebook and tore a page out.
“You have a basement?”
“My house and Hudson’s have storm cellars. Henry’s got a cellar attached to the Roadhouse.” I tapped a pen against the paper. “In here?” I glanced toward the huge windows and winced. “Not out here. Inner most area is probably the locker rooms or where the washer and dryer are.”
Bryce shivered. “Let’s hope we never have to find our safe space.”
I gave a nod and turned my attention to the paper.
“Let’s make a list of things we can probably order through Hudson at the store and things we’ll need to go up the road for.
We can use my truck for any of the big things.
You good with orderin’ today, a shopping trip tomorrow, and getting’ started day after?
” I gestured toward the run-down area. “I’m itchin’ to get this place fixed up.
Gonna look real good with equipment and clients. ”
“Sounds good. Think we can do some cleaning today? Thought we could at least start making piles of shit that need to go.”
“Yeah.” I scribbled on the notepaper. “We can rent a dumpster. I know a guy who will give us a good deal.”
Bryce cocked his head with that same look he gave me at the Roadhouse.
“What? Why you keep lookin’ at me like that?”
He shook his head. “You’re not the asshole you want people to think you are.”
I scoffed. “Don’t want people thinkin’ nothin’ about me. What they think is their own business.”
Bryce shook his head. “No, you hide behind being cranky. You keep up a facade while spewin’ shit without a filter. But you’re a good guy. Might be deep, deep down, but the true heart of Casey Joe Riggs is good and gentle.”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled.
Bryce laughed. “You know, I’m really surprised you’re as accepting of your boys as you are.”
My papa bear bristled immediately, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “What the fuck’s that mean?”
He held up a hand. “I’m just saying, most of the people I grew up with fall into two categories.
Those who left our small town and experienced more of the world usually ended up being more accepting and open-minded.
Those who stayed in or around the area are a lot more likely to be pretty damn bigoted.
” Bryce gestured toward the windows. “You grew up here, so I would have guessed you fell into the second category, but you don’t. ”
All the bluster left my sails, and I cleared my throat.
“Yeah, well. I grew up with bigots for parents. Honestly, probably would have ended up that way myself if it hadn’t been for my boys.
Not gonna lie and say there’s nothin’ in my past I’m a bit ashamed of—I’m not perfect, and I did and said some things that weren’t right.
” I shook my head. A brief flash of memories from way back then—when I felt things I didn’t understand, when I knew damn well I didn’t have a soul I could tell or ask questions—played through my mind.
“I buried a lot back then. If I ignored it, it didn’t exist. My parents were doin’ enough hatin’ for all of us—if someone didn’t look like us, love like us, worship like us, speak like us…
well, you get the picture. I lost myself in my own drama for so long, I really didn’t have the energy or time to hate—too busy raisin’ my boys and drownin’ in a broken heart.
When my boys came out to me in their own ways at their own times, deep down, I knew I had two options.
I could carry on the hate I’d grown up with or keep on lovin’ my boys the way I had since the moment I knew they existed.
Hudson being gay and Henry being bi and demi didn’t change a single thing about how much I loved them.
I was maybe a little confused and unsure in the beginning, but I asked questions—probably too many if the boys were to tell it—and I educated myself. ”
I also let tiny bits of wondering, doubt, fear, and hope trickle into my own life, but those came slower than a snail’s pace and were things I wasn’t sure if or when I’d ever be ready to examine any further than my therapist’s couch.
But then I caught Bryce’s eyes on me. His curiosity, his genuine interest, the true connection I already knew I had with him. And a sliver of my soul wanted to pour it all out. Tell him about my past. Spill everything I’d been exploring about myself. Ask him about his own journey.
Instead, I took a cleansing breath and returned to my story.
“If it weren’t for my boys, I might have turned out to be a bigoted, racist, homophobic asshole.
But I wanted better for them. I wanted better for me.
I know I’m a privileged, cis white guy. I know I have the same implicit biases as the next person, but I try to keep learnin’ and keep betterin’ myself.
” I shrugged. “Most people seein’ me or meetin’ me for the first time probably think I’m a homophobic, racist, sexist asshole.
I don’t mind them makin’ that judgement.
And I don’t set out to prove them wrong, but I do try my best to live in a way my boys can be proud of when they look back at their time with me.
” I huffed out a humorless laugh as I leaned my elbows on the counter.
“I screwed up so much in so many other ways, the least I can do is give them that.”
The warmth of Bryce’s hand on mine took a moment to register, but then I froze. My eyes bore holes into the place where his skin burned against mine. “You’ve spent too long carrying that load—”
I cleared my throat, pulled my hand from under his, and scribbled some nonsense on the notepad. “Need to get over to see Hudson if we’re going to get this order placed.”
“Case—”
“Probably get some junk piles started, and once we get a dumpster delivered, we’ll be good to go.”
Bryce sighed. “Yeah, sounds good. Let’s get going.”