12. Parker #2
“Okay, start there then,” Aspen insisted.
“It was Tattered Angel, Wild Child, and Bleeding Dawn,” I replied. “Back when Winter, Bleeding Dawn’s guitarist, was playing bass for Wild Child.”
“I’ve seen Wild Child several times,” Aspen said. “They’ve always put on a spectacular show.”
“Yeah, they do. Now, if you want me to pick the best single live performance I’ve ever attended, that would be Shriveled Rose. They headlined a festival that night. Good music all day long, but they were phenomenal.”
“They’ve always been one of my favorite bands,” Phoenix said. “I saw them eight times before the helicopter crash.”
“I only saw them once,” Aspen said. “But I agree with the phenomenal part.”
“They are easily my answer to your question,” Phoenix said.
“For me, it would be Grayson’s Disciples,” Aspen said, a serene look on his face as he swirled one of the shrimps in the butter.
“They only played in Vermont and Maine, but it was worth the trip to lay out under the stars and listen to them blend the blues with a bit of grunge. Sometimes the grass was tall enough that you couldn’t see the people lying a few feet away unless you sat up.
It would wave when the wind blew through it, almost like it was dancing.
I hated when they shut that venue down. They were the last band I saw there, now that I think about it. ”
“I didn’t realize they’d closed until I went online looking for tickets one night,” I said. “The last show I saw there was Cinderella’s Slipper. Honey Dust and Bad Monkeys opened for them.”
“That’s the one you offered me a ticket to and I had to turn you down because they’d added extra performances to the show I was performing in,” Aspen reminded me.
“That’s right,” I said. “Dorian had a buddy who wanted to go, so we wound up giving him the third ticket. You’d have loved it, though.”
“Rub it in, why don’t you?”
I reached over and rubbed his arm, just to be a smartass. “Rub, rub, rub.”
“If you didn’t have three more courses to unveil, I’d give you other things to rub,” Aspen grumbled, swatting at my hand.
“What was the show?” Phoenix asked. “The one you were performing in?”
“Serenity and Nightmares,” I answered before Aspen could and watched his eyes widen.
“You remember?”
“I do,” I replied. “I was bummed when you couldn’t join us.”
“So was I,” Aspen admitted.
Time melted. It was nice to kick back between courses, since there was never a shortage of topics we hadn’t hit on before.
I felt like we learned new things about one another as we moved from the appetizers to the beef course.
Six pinwheels of thinly sliced, marinated beef, all with different fillings, from goat cheese to swiss with mushrooms. Each marinade had been different too, but it had been a blast putting the flavor profiles together and assembling everything.
Watching the pure pleasure on their faces while they enjoyed them was as thoroughly enjoyable as the conversation.
Eventually, all good things must come to an end.
We finished with cold lobster rolls and cherry-cream-cheese tarts drizzled with a lemon glaze it had taken two tries to get right.
I’d nailed it, though. They both told me so after they wiped the crumbs from their lips.
We carried empty plates and platters into the kitchen once we finally levered ourselves out of our seats.
Aspen told the smart speaker to play his blues playlist, the low tones providing a backdrop for the clatter of silverware as we washed the dishes, since everything needed to be done by hand.
I’d cleaned the kitchen while I’d cooked, so the only things left were what we used during the meal and the serving platters and bowls. Aspen put everything away after I washed it and Phoenix dried, the three of us working together to wipe down the counters after we were through.
“Is it really after nine?” Phoenix asked, drawing my attention to the clock on the stove. “Holy shit, it didn’t feel like we sat there that long.”
“No, it didn’t,” Aspen said, slipping an arm around him and swaying to the melody. “I’d have sat there longer if we hadn’t run out of food.”
“If I’d eaten another bite, the chair might have crumbled underneath me,” Phoenix groaned, arms draped over Aspen’s shoulders, Aspen’s arms around his waist.
They weren’t dancing so much as rocking together, occasionally shuffling their feet as they turned in a slow circle.
Tsking, Aspen muttered against Phoenix’s shirt. “The chairs are oak. Two of you could sit in it without so much as a creak.”
“Well, two of me certainly got out of it,” Phoenix said.
“And I don’t mind one bit. The whole evening felt different, special.
I think it was the vibe more than anything.
When we eat at the coffee table or in the kitchen, we’re almost always doing other things.
Yeah, we talk, but it wasn’t the same kind of conversation. ”
“We should make it a Sunday tradition,” Aspen said.
“I’d like that,” Phoenix said. “And I’d like to answer the question you asked earlier.”
“Which…” Aspen began before his voice trailed off.
He stopped moving too, and we both stood frozen, waiting for Phoenix to answer, since I already knew what my response was.
“Hell yeah,” Phoenix said.
“That goes double for me,” I declared and got in on the hug-dancing that was taking place, the three of us clinging and swaying in the middle of the kitchen.
“And now we get to plan a celebration dinner for next Sunday,” Aspen said. “We’ll have to come up with a theme, of course.”
“Well, my uncles and cousins and I have something we do, for when someone new moves into the rooms above the club,” Phoenix said. “We each whip up a batch of wings and have a welcome dinner.”
“Brilliant!” Aspen said. “We can do that and make sides to go with them.”
“Okay, so what about dessert?” I asked.
Aspen pressed his head against my shoulder. I had mine resting on Phoenix’s. At some point we might want to sit down before we toppled over, but I didn’t want to break the mood by suggesting it.
“We each make one,” Aspen said. “Like tonight, we keep them small, one portion each, and have ourselves a wing party.”
“Let me add one stipulation,” I interjected.
“Let’s hear it,” Phoenix said.
“None of us tells the other what kind of wings we’re making,” I said. “We should each make our personal favorites, just to see what happens.”
“That goes for all three categories then,” Aspen amended.
“I can work with that,” Phoenix said. “Either we’re going to wind up with a wide array of things or three variations of the same thing.”
“Half the fun is in waiting to find out,” I said.
“You’re right about that,” Phoenix replied, yawning. “Maybe we should take this to the living room?”
“Sounds like we’d better,” Aspen said, reluctantly letting his arms drop before stepping back.
It wouldn’t have shocked me if we all ended up on the couch tonight. Fortunately, it was big enough to fit us. I just hoped we could rearrange things enough to fit the few pieces of furniture I intended to keep.
Like my chair and writing table. The rest had come with my unit when I’d leased it. Stylish and functional, I hadn’t cared what had been in there as long as I hadn’t had to worry about furnishing the place.
Within reason, of course, I did have my standards.
But I had been on a deadline then too. Now I was glad I hadn’t bothered with any of that.
This was going to be magnificent. There were so many moments to look forward to, more traditions, and our first Christmas.
We were going all out on the decorations.
Aspen was notorious for having at least two trees.
We had plenty of time to plan a holiday dinner party for our gaming group.
Better make sure to coordinate with Dorian on that one so we don’t wind up planning them on the same night.
The holidays meant his shop would be busy, but I was certain we could manage if we put our heads together.
I was already getting excited, that was what being with them did to me.
And I hoped the feeling did nothing but grow for the rest of my days.