12. Parker
PARKER
“Oh shit, I didn’t realize you guys had plans tonight!” Phoenix stammered as he stepped through the entryway to the dining room, where Aspen was lighting candles on the table while I arranged decorative metal stands for the covered dishes I had lined up in the kitchen. “I’ll just…”
Aspen bumped into a chair, nearly overturning it in his haste to get to Phoenix, while it took me longer to hurry around the table, since attempting to go over it would have made quite a mess.
“And where do you think you’re going?” I asked, catching hold of his sleeve,
“Uhhh, I figure I’ll work that out on the way,” he admitted, flushing.
“Why didn’t you guys text me? I’d have headed over to Dorian’s and hung out with Murry and Raleigh after I finished talking to the guys and walking them through the new zones Uncle James and I came up with.
Cutting the middle up into smaller chunks means less chance of bullshit being missed.
I wish we’d come up with the idea sooner. ”
“What makes you think we want you to leave?” Aspen asked, having moved around in front of him.
“I-I just figured…” Phoenix stammered, gesturing to the room behind us. “Whoever you’ve got coming over wouldn’t be anyone I’d have much in common with. I didn’t want to sit there awkwardly shoving food in my face with nothing to contribute to the conversation.”
Groaning, I scrubbed a hand over my face while Aspen shook his head and tugged Phoenix into a hug.
“You’re not going anywhere. First of all, no one is coming over, and even if there was someone joining us, you’d be parking your ass at the table because this is your home too, even if we haven’t made it official yet.
Which was, in part, what I’d planned to discuss with you both tonight.
Parker started cooking as soon as he finished today’s chapter, and when the scents hit, I couldn’t sit still and focus on 911 Lone Star anymore.
Since someone kept taking swats at my fingers when I tried to snag samples, I decided to break out a tablecloth and some placemats.
Things just sort of steamrolled from there when I realized that I had the perfect silverware to go with the ivy plates. ”
“What he’s trying to say is that the meal is for us,” I added. “Just us.”
“Oh,” he murmured.
Aspen gripped his hair and rubbed their noses together before turning him into my embrace.
“Sweetheart, I swear to you that we would never plan a supper party with guests and not warn you about it beforehand. That’s not how a household works.
Random friends dropping by, that’s different, but an actual dinner affair takes discussion and coordinating our schedules to ensure the event won’t be taking place when someone is facing a deadline. ”
“Fortunately, there are no more of those to worry about for a few weeks. Once I go through my editor’s recommendations, I’ll fire it off to my agent and be able to breathe easily for a while and work on the new series.
I had to stop myself from writing anything beyond the first two chapters before I finished the current book, but the characters wouldn’t give me any peace until I did that much. ”
“Sounds like you’re about to be swept along on a wonderful adventure,” Aspen said.
“When they speak that loudly, all I can do is hold on and record the ride,” I admitted. “Now, are we ready to sit down and enjoy supper, or is someone still looking for an escape route?”
“Nah,” Phoenix said, moving in for another hug, “As soon as I opened the door, my stomach started growling.”
“Then it’s a good thing there is a five-course meal waiting to be served,” I declared, before ushering them back into the dining room.
While the table was big enough to fit eight, we sat at the end in front of the bay window, Aspen at the head of the table, and Phoenix and I seated across from one another, once I’d brought everything out from the kitchen.
Aspen had filled champagne flutes with sparkling cider while I ladled clam chowder into everyone’s bowls and served it up with three mini garlic butter biscuits.
“Hmmm,” Phoenix hummed after the first bite passed his lips. “Holy shit, there are giant clam chunks in here.”
“There better be, after how much time I spent chopping them,” I declared, proud of the way the chowder had come together.
Diced red potatoes floated in the thick broth, the bowl in front of me dotted with the oyster crackers I’d sprinkled on top of my chowder.
“Someone had surf and turf on his mind tonight,” Aspen said, “which was next to impossible to ignore when the scents started drifting out of the kitchen.”
“See! I told you!” Phoenix said, pointing across the table at me with his spoon.
“Mmm, man, this is good! When he starts with that food porn shit, there is no fucking way to get anything done until he’s finished, even a fucking movie.
I tried. When I couldn’t focus on the graphic novel, I put Fire Island on.
I love that movie, and I couldn’t focus for shit.
Every few minutes I’d catch myself sniffing the air and drooling.
Phoenix licked his lips, eyeing the bowl with a mix of lust and excitement before he dug back in.
“We used to take the subway to Brooklyn for chowder and fish and chips on Sundays,” Aspen said, smiling at me.
“All winter long, that was our ritual. There was a diner there, oh, what the hell was it called again? It had that blue-and-white awning with the anchor in the middle. You remember it, right?”
“Dragging Anchor,” I said, as an image of the awning popped into my head. “How the hell did we ever find that place?”
“Sebastian,” I reminded him. “He wanted us to come down to that bakery and help him pick out a cake for the party he was throwing Lukas to celebrate his promotion.”
“You mean the promotion he wound up not getting because the company filed chapter eleven and laid almost everyone off?” Aspen said. “I remember that now. We went with the matcha green tea cake with berries, though that black forest kept calling to me, so I went back and got one a few days later.”
“And didn’t share?” I said. “Wow.”
“In my defense, I intended to invite you over for coffee, but a midnight call set my nerves on edge, and by the time I finished dealing with the hot mess on the other end, I’d eaten half that cake. The rest didn’t make it to lunchtime.”
“If you were dealing with who I think you were, then I won’t hold it against you that you didn’t share.”
“Thank you. And I was,” Aspen replied.
“I swear I need something to do with my hands every time my cousin Kenny’s name pops up on my phone,” Phoenix said.
“It’s worse in person, though. There are times when I just want to choke the shit out of him and deal with the consequences later.
At least him being on the phone means I can’t reach him.
I just wish he’d stop instead of being so damned impulsive all the time.
He makes more bad decisions than anyone I know. ”
“There’s always one,” I said. “In every friend group and family, and if someone doesn’t think there is, it’s usually because they are the dumb son of a bitch making piss-poor decisions.”
“Preach!” Aspen said, while Phoenix laughed and scooped more chowder onto his spoon. Aspen had broken out the deep soup spoons and even laid out cocktail forks for the course I’d be unveiling next.
“But you have to admit, they are easier to deal with than the ones hell-bent on turning every moment into a hold-my-beer opportunity,” Phoenix pointed out.
“Oh no, see, those are the folks whose social media feeds are constantly filled with reminders of why we don’t spend time together,” Aspen said. “I watch their shenanigans from behind a screen, where there is no chance of blood splatter, or any other unsavory bodily fluids, staining my clothes.”
“Man, it sounds like you’re describing a Broken Dolls concert,” Phoenix said.
“Might as well be,” Aspen said. “I’ve seen videos of what goes on at them, and that would be a hard pass from me unless the concert was taking place in a field with a hill at the back that I could sit on, well away from the carnage.
At least then my ears wouldn’t ring for the rest of the night.
I own a beautiful pair of binoculars, so I wouldn’t miss a thing.
Broken Dolls were a favorite among several members of the set crew at my old theater and some of the techies too.
Some days, I’d swear the theater walls were shaking while they blared them. ”
“I’ve seen them a couple times,” Phoenix said, “always as close to the front as we could afford tickets for.”
“Like to get messy, pup?” I asked.
“You know it.”
Our conversation took on a series of meandering twists and turns involving the concerts we’d been to and the bands we’d seen, as I unveiled the bacon-wrapped jalapeno poppers with scallops and garlic butter shrimp stuffed with crab meat that served as our appetizers tonight.
“Best band you’ve ever seen live,” Aspen blurted, but only after he’d devoured two of the poppers.
Phoenix had gone straight for the shrimp after dunking it in the seasoned garlic butter I’d passed around in ramekins.
“Dude, I could eat nothing but these for the rest of my life and be completely happy,” Phoenix declared before he tried one of the poppers and his eyes went wide. “Never mind, forget I said anything at all. One thing will never be an option after tasting both of those.”
He actually wiggled around in his seat as he spoke before snagging another popper. With increasing frequency, I noticed his pup side shine through in tiny, subconscious moments that showed just how comfortable he was growing with us.
“You are going to have to narrow that question down,” I said.
“Or break it into different categories. Because there is no way for me to pick one band. I can tell you what the best concert I ever attended was, but there were three bands that night, and every damn one of them sits at the top of my favorite bands list.”