CASPER
MAYBE TRANSPORTING
everything from his level down to Kevin’s had been a bad call. Although it had seemed to make sense—it would make it easier to get rid of everything all at once if they had it all on the ground floor. It had even been Kevin’s idea. Still, with every load of crap he and Kevin brought down from the second level, his new business partner seemed to come a little more unhinged.
Casper had stopped asking if Kevin was feeling all right. Each time he asked, Kevin’s irritation became more obvious. Not that Casper could blame him. Even asking it was getting annoying.
Perhaps it would have been easier if they’d waited until they were both done with work instead of spending the majority of every evening lugging shit down the stairs. They’d probably be able to get it done in less than two full days if they hit it hard and didn’t stop. Between their differing job schedules and Kevin seeming to work out more than any other human on the planet, the times they were at the brownstone together over the past four days had been limited.
“You know, we could just wait. Today was my last day, and I can spend some time and really get through some of this stuff.” Casper leaned on the mildewed couch they’d just lugged down the stairs. Was he really this out of shape?
“I can’t ask you to do this by yourself. It’s too much.” Even as he said the words, Kevin’s gaze traveled around the space, the look of panic growing ever closer to the surface.
Casper was fairly certain Kevin had lost weight, which shouldn’t have been possible. He’d already been in perfect shape, and he was beginning to look too thin. Of course, everyone handled stress differently, and what they were undertaking was sure to cause ridiculous levels of stress. He was in no place to judge. Casper hoped and prayed Brent wasn’t bragging at the ad agency about how much they’d been hooking up. Casper had made it clear all they were doing was hooking up, that they were not boyfriends.
Stress made you do weird things.
“Well, how about we do New Year’s Eve here? We clean for a bit, and then we stop and really celebrate. We bring a picnic, hook up my laptop and watch the ball drop, really plan out what we want this place to look like.” Casper waited until Kevin finally looked over at him, then smiled encouragingly. “I think we’ve been getting too heavy in here. It’s only been a week, not even, and we’re already losing the joy. We need to focus on the whole point of what we’re doing.”
Kevin shook his head, his attention once again pulled around the room. “The quicker we get it done, the sooner we can enjoy it. And we don’t have wireless in here yet. We can’t use the computer.”
“Oh. Right. Well, I’ll bring a bottle of champagne and some cheese and fruit. We can at least bring in the New Year with a bang.”
“I think I already have plans that night, actually.”
“Oh.” Casper tried to hide his disappointment. “Well, that’s good. You need a break.”
Kevin’s cheeks flushed, which highlighted the dark circles under his eyes.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s grab a late dinner. You look famished.”
“No, let’s keep going. We’ve only been working for an hour.” Without waiting, Kevin turned and headed to the stairs.
Casper had to bite his lip to keep from pointing out that if Kevin didn’t go to the gym after work every day, they’d be further along. Although maybe if Casper had been going to the gym more, he’d be less stressed. Plus he might get a little action in the steam room, keep him from turning to Brent so much. That would be nice.
Leaving the couch where it was, Casper followed Kevin, taking the stairs two at a time. “You know, I’ve been thinking about names. Maybe Bridal Veils and Icing or Lace and Cakes, or….” His voice trailed off as he reached the top steps and saw Kevin popping a pill into his mouth. He’d seen it a lot the past few days and had tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed. But if the man he now owned a business with had a drug problem, he needed to know. It would explain the weight loss. “You sure take a lot of pills. Are you feeling okay?”
Another look of annoyance flashed over Kevin’s features, and then he let out a laugh. “You should see your face. I can tell what you’re thinking.” He sighed, reached in his pocket, and pulled out more pills. Closing the distance between them, he held up a thin white pill, partially divided into three sections. “This is Xanax. It’s for my anxiety. I can get panic attacks sometimes.” He placed the pill on his other palm and retrieved a round vanilla-colored pill. “This is Aciphex. I have horrible acid reflux. Have for years. There’s not a minute of the day that I’m not a little bit on fire inside.” Kevin returned the pills to his right pocket and then dug into his left, pulling out more. “These pretty ones are Tums. I like the berry flavored. I have to take them like candy.” He placed those back in his pocket and then patted his rear. “These pockets are empty. There’s no baggies of cocaine or syringes of heroin or anything of the kind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Whoa.” Casper took a moment to put together what Kevin had said with how often he’d seen Kevin taking pills. “Are you all right?”
Kevin shrugged. “The pills help. Quite a bit, but not entirely.”
“No, I mean, you’re taking a lot of pretty heavy medication. That’s got to play havoc on your body.”
Another shrug. “Better than the alternative.”
“Have you tried yoga or meditation? I know this great little—”
The irritation returned. “I know you mean well, but please. I’ve got this under control. There’s nothing I haven’t heard of or tried. Nothing sitting on the floor with my legs crossed would fix at any rate. I’m under a doctor’s care. I’ll be fine.”
Kevin didn’t seem all right. Not if he was taking that many pills. No way was he telling his doctor how much he was taking. Although he supposed the doctor must know, since he was giving him the prescriptions. Casper wanted to push the point, but he refrained.
How strange. You just never knew about someone. Not that he and Kevin had spent any real time together or knew each other outside the brownstone’s walls. But still. He would never have guessed. This model-looking man who seemed like he had it all together, in constant pain and unable to control his anxiety.
Casper had a sudden desire to rescue him.
The impulse set off alarms in his head.
Been there. Done that. Got the scars.
Kevin swiped his hands together, as if brushing off dust, and pulled Casper back into the present. “Well, now that we got that over with, I say we move along and get the rest of the unpleasantness finished. We’ve put it off long enough.”
For a moment, Casper didn’t follow, but the playful smirk, forced or not, over Kevin’s face made him realize. “Oh no. Really? It’s too late for that. It will be the last thing we have time for, and I’ll go to bed with that smell in my mouth.”
Walking over to one of the larger piles of rubbish that was still left, Kevin bent and picked up the box of trash bags. “Come on. If it gets too bad, you can just do some meditation and make the stench go away. Retreat to some higher plane to rise above it all. Or something like that.”
Casper couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You know, for being so hot, you can kinda be a smartass sometimes.”
They both froze, Casper’s words hanging in the air.
He felt his face burn, and he was certain Kevin noticed. “Did I say hot? I meant short. For being so short, you can kinda be a smartass sometimes.”
Kevin took the out. Thank God.
“Short? You’re one to talk. We are about the same height.”
“Actually, I think we’re exactly the same height.” Casper slipped his heel out of his shoe, using his other foot for leverage. “Let’s take off our shoes and stand back to back and find out.”
Kevin’s face crinkled in disgust. “You’re insane if you think I’m walking around here without shoes on. Gross. Plus, I’m not five years old.” He motioned toward the refrigerator. “Quit trying to stall. It’s time to dive in, headfirst.”
“Ugh.” Casper slipped back into his shoe. “Talk about gross. Can’t we hire someone to do this?”
“Quit being a baby.” Kevin moved to open the refrigerator door.
“No, wait.” Casper held out his hand as if to stop Kevin from triggering a bomb. “Why don’t we?”
Kevin arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Why don’t we what? Pay someone to empty the fridge? Seriously?”
“No. Not the fridge. Well, actually, yes. Why don’t we hire someone to clear all this shit out. They have those companies that come and load up all your trash and make it disappear.”
He could tell the idea appealed to Kevin, but he could also see the thought being rejected. “We are going to have an endless amount of things to pay for to get this place up and running, and we won’t be able to afford all we want as it is. Do you really want to spend money on garbage?” With that, Kevin threw open the refrigerator door.
They both gagged.
“Oh fuck, that’s worse than I remember.”
Casper clamped his fingers over his mouth and nose so hard it hurt. “Told you. Think it might be worth it now?”
Stubbornly, Kevin retrieved one of the trash bags, shook it open and handed it to Casper, then got one for himself. “Stop being dramatic.”
It took about ten minutes for the smell to dissipate. Or at least for them to grow accustomed to it. Although with each new item they lifted up, a new odor added to the mix.
“I can’t believe I forgot to get gloves.” Kevin lifted a molding something that used to be food between his fingers and dropped it into his bag. “I just got a manicure, but I’m going to have to go tomorrow morning and get another one.”
“So you’ll pay to get your nails done, but not to get this over and done with?”
Kevin gave him a haughty look. “Obviously you’ve never experienced the relaxation that is a mani-pedi.”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“Well, you should. They work almost as well as a Xanax.” Kevin grew stiff once more, despite having been the one to make the joke. After a few tense moments, he reached over and lightly touched Casper’s right arm. “So tell me about this.”
It was Casper’s turn to grow stiff. Kevin’s touch on his skin was electric. Cliché, yes. But electric nonetheless. He looked down at his tattooed arm a second before Kevin pulled his fingers away. Casper kept his gaze focused on his tattoo, refusing to see if Kevin had a reaction as well. He cleared his throat. “It was my present to myself when I graduated from culinary school. Several of us got tattoos to commemorate, but I was the only one to do the entire thing with a bakery theme.”
“So you’ve done other kinds of cooking, but baking is your favorite, obviously.”
“Yeah. I love cooking, period. But there’s nothing like baking. At least for me. Something about it matches my aesthetic. I know you can make savory food beautiful and attractive, but not like you can desserts. Maybe it’s kind of why you like wedding dresses. Normal dresses are pretty, but a wedding gown takes it all to the next level. Its sole purpose is to be lavish and beautiful.”
He finally looked up at Kevin’s face. He looked relaxed and happy suddenly. “Yeah. That’s true. Everything about a wedding gown is purposeful. Beauty and structure in perfect harmony. At least on the good ones. You know, I think part of me has been worried that you simply wanted your own bakery, that you didn’t really care much if it catered to weddings or not, but it sounds like you do.”
“If I’m being honest, I plan on doing some other items besides just wedding cakes, which I think can benefit both of us by drawing in more people, but cakes have always been my favorite. They are truly limitless of what you can do, if you have the talent.” A thought struck him. “I can’t believe I forgot about this, or that you did. You’ve never tasted my baking.”
“True. There really wasn’t time. But I did see the desserts at Savor that night. They looked beautiful. I don’t eat too many sweets.” Kevin’s voice faltered momentarily. “They, uh, make my acid reflux go insane.”
There was more to it than what Kevin was saying, that much was obvious, but Casper wasn’t quite sure in what way. He spoke softly, trying to sound both confident and encouraging. “Kevin, I promise you, and I’m not trying to be arrogant or anything, but I can make a wedding cake that can match or top any dress you’ll bring into your shop. I swear. And it will taste as good as it looks. You won’t regret this.”
Kevin didn’t turn from his gaze, maybe trying to judge Casper’s sincerity, maybe something else. Whatever it was, it gave Casper the chance to inspect Kevin’s eyes like he’d wanted to do. They were beautiful, even with lightly bruised half moons beneath them. What he’d chalked up to be olive green before was actually various hues of brown with flashes of green cutting through. Each with a small golden crown around the pupil.
At last Kevin looked away, apparently satisfied with whatever he’d found. “I was thinking the other day, to the point that I needed extra Xanax, actually, with all the baking up here, the dresses are going to start smelling like cake, aren’t they?”
Casper could tell from the tightness in Kevin’s voice, besides his admission of added stress, that this was a potentially huge issue. He retrieved a couple more moldy items from the fridge before deciding how to respond. “You know, the tattoo parlor where I get my work done is connected to an ice cream shop where they make their own waffle cones. The tattoo parlor always smells like a waffle cone. It’s wonderful, and every time I get a tattoo, I have to then stop and get ice cream afterward.”
“Is that your way of saying that I’m right and the dresses are going to smell like cake? I don’t think that’s a good thing. A bride doesn’t want to smell like cake.”
Casper met Kevin’s eyes once more, and a pang of hurt shot through him at the amount of stress and fear he saw there. “Actually, I think it will be a good thing, Kevin. You know how they say if you’re trying to sell a house, you should bake cookies so people feel at home when they are taking a tour? I think it will make your dress shop all the more appealing. I imagine trying on wedding dresses can be a very stressful thing for a woman. I bet that homemade baked smell will be kinda soothing.” Another thought hit him. “You won’t have all the dresses at the store, right? The women try them on, pick out one, and then you order it. I can’t imagine that you’d be able to have that many dresses in stock that you have the perfect size for each woman.”