Page 6 of Hot Mess Express
“Told you. Everyone hits on you. Everyone, everywhere. Even sleepy-eyed gas station attendants in bad moods.” When he sees the angry look on my face, he sighs. “Lighten up, you’re always too serious. It’s probably why all of that happened in the first place.”
“So it’s my fault? I’m not too serious.”
Pete slaps his hat back onto his head. “You’re gonna fuck that guy someday.” Then he strolls up the curvy pathway to the house, I guess having gathered his courage by taunting me.
It’s by the front door that we hear the yelling inside. Pete and I exchange a look. He gives the door a tentative knock. The yelling continues. He gives a more confident knock, trying to interrupt it. Still nothing. Just when he decides to give up andhead back to the car, I test the front door and find it unlocked. “We can’t just go in!” hisses Pete, and I don’t know if it’s my mood or the fact that the image of bending a sweaty Anthony over that century-old fuel pump now infests my brain, but I let myself in anyway, heedless to Pete’s protests.
The beauty of the wide, clean foyer and the upstairs banister overlooking it, and what appears to be a pristine dining room off to the left and seating area to the right, go mostly ignored as the yelling grows closer inside the house. Pete squeezes up next to me, wide-eyed, whispering that we shouldn’t be in here, as we head under the curved staircase into the living room, dimly lit by the window peering into a cozy seating area on a back porch. Opening off the living room is the kitchen, where we find the source of the yelling across a barstool-lined island. Two handsome men stand on either side, each of them equipped with a coffee mug. One’s in a heather gray t-shirt and black gym shorts, with a muscular build, chiseled jaw, five o’clock shadow, and buzzed head. The other is more slender, a pair of glasses at the tip of his nose, wearing a half-buttoned shirt and pair of slacks with the belt undone, as if he was in the middle of getting ready for the day until a seemingly minor disagreement blew up into what we’re witnessing now.
“That’s not what I heard!” exclaims the one in the glasses, responding to something I didn’t catch. “It pisses me off you’re being so flippant about this! My concerns are legitimate …”
“Trey, you got eyes, you got ears,” says the muscular one in the gym shorts—Cody, I presume. “You see how they take care of each other. Been obvious to everyone for years how they—”
“Not to me!” Trey sets down his mug too hard, causing coffee to splash over his hand. I guess it isn’t hot enough to burn, since he ignores it. They’ve probably been at it long enough for both of their mugs to go cold. “It’s one thing for our parents to be ‘there for each other’,” he says using air quotes, “and I’m happyabout that. They deserve companionship. But it is—please stop giving me that look, you know I hate it—it is entirely another for them to be in aserious-ass-fucking relationship!”
“You not only cussed, which is always hot by the way, but you said ‘ass fucking’ with a straight face …”
“Cody, our parents cannotget married.”
“They’re not getting married, babe.”
“Then what were those rumors? Just more lies and gossip?”
Cody leans over the counter, his tone softening. “Don’t you know your dad is the best thing that’s happened to my mom in a decade? Look at the cute-ass pair of ‘em. They’rehappy, Trey. My overworked mom and your lonely dad—happy. Didn’t you see the two of them this past Christmas? Even Nadine was smiling!”
Trey’s fingers practically dig holes in the countertop. “If those rumors are true and my dad is planning to marry your mom, that would turn us intostepbrothers, Cody.Stepbrothers!”
“Only literally,” he grunts back, sips his coffee, then makes a face and spits it back into the mug.
“My husband cannot become my stepbrother! We cannot be stepbrother husbands! Is that what you want? To be stepbrother hus—?I can’t.” He cuts himself off with a choked, frustrated laugh, throwing his hands up. “I am the reverend of Spruce, Texas. Agayreverend, at that—with a husband, a reputation, expectations, and our neighboring town of Fairview staringjudgilydown at us …”
“So it’s all about optics?”
“Don’t be naïve. You know how the news and social media can spin things like this, making Spruce seem like a weird town where anyone marries anyone and can do whatever they want …”
“Isn’t that exactly what it is?”
“That’s all we need. Every headline from here to El Paso.‘Gay reverend married to his stepbrother in small Texas town.’ No one will care what came first, stepbrother chicken or the gay egg.”
“Egg came first, if we’re talkin’ evolution …”
“I can’t believe my dad would do this to me. I can’t believe—”
That’s when Pete barely moves a foot, scuffing it on the floor and causing Trey and Cody to turn. From the look in their eyes, I’m not sure they realize who we even are for a solid ten seconds. All four of us become strangers in a house. Cody and Trey standing at the counter. Pete and I, the invaders, creeping into the privacy of their home where we’ve just witnessed a scene not meant for anyone’s eyes or ears but theirs. No one knows what to say or do.
Until a light bulb flicks on in Cody’s eyes so fast, it practically shatters. “Pete?”
Like an actor who’s rehearsed his lines to death, Pete stiffly steps forward. “Cody. My man. It’s been a long time. I’m so glad to finally see you again. You haven’t aged a day.”
Cody looks Pete up and down, then snorts. “Well, if that ain’t a damned lie. I’m old as fuck now.”
The two men lock eyes.
Then burst into laughter.
Trey and I—the outsiders in this overdue reunion—watch as Pete and Cody crash their bodies together into an unexpectedly aggressive hug, slapping each other’s backs so hard, I hear Pete’s rubbery hotel pancakes bounce around inside him. Cody looks so happy to see his friend again, bubbling over with joy in his eyes. I can still see the tension in Pete’s face, despite his efforts to act like nothing’s up, to play it cool, to let the joy of their reunion drown out all the doubts in his head.
“Old,” snorts Pete, shoving Cody with a laugh. “Fool, you’re not even 30 yet.”
