12 Drummers Thumbing Page 6

“H-h-here.” AC grabbed one of the first articles of clothing he’d removed on the way down to Mexico, a lightweight scarf he tried to hand off to Carlton, so he could clean himself off. Carlton stared straight ahead, though. He didn’t even reach out.

  “S-s-shoot.” AC took one last glance, unfastened his seatbelt, and then reached over to wipe Carlton down as best as he could. Once finished, he put the blanket back in place, buckled up, and, lastly, kissed his fingertip and touched it gently to Carlton’s cheek. “G-g-good night, C-c-c-Carlton.”

  By the time they started moving again, AC’s dick was just starting to soften, and Carlton was settled back in his seat, snoring away.

  Chapter 8

  Hewlett: Two stars. Purple. Happy. Way too happy. Always smiling. Ripped. All muscles, grinning teeth, and a southern drawl topped off with 80s hair he might have carried over from his teenage years, a cut that comes dangerously close to being a mullet. If he’s that old, he’s held up okay.

  Not quite two hours later, AC pulled into the same rest stop in Kentucky he’d slept at on the way down, the one where he and John hadn’t fucked. The twelve men got out to stretch again, before settling in for the night. All different ages, sizes, and ethnicities, they were also individuals when it came to temperature. AC, in just his shirt sleeves, walked Spud around the gravel and dirt. Like Elsa, the cold never bothered either one of them. Not that it was all that cold, mid-forties, according to one of those light-up thermometer signs they’d passed a few miles back. AC considered that mild. Rohan must have agreed. He was bare chested, in just a pair of gym shorts. All of the men seemed ready for sleep, some in pajama pants and heavy sweatshirts, some in way less. Terrel was strolling around in a pair of neon orange boxer briefs and nothing more.

  “Where’s Carlton?” Murphy asked. He still had his maroon 12 Drummers shirt on, with just briefs, or maybe nothing. The shirt was pretty long.

  “H-he’s a-a-a-asleep,” AC told him.

  “No kidding. Carlton never sleeps. Not for long, anyway. We’ll leave him be. The rest of you…” Murphy clapped once. “Same drill, no matter where we settle in for the night.” He turned to AC. “We do vocal warmups to sing on key in our dreams, and a huddle to say good night. Join us.” He took AC’s hand. “In place of Carlton.”

  “I d-d-don’t sing.”

  “It’s just la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.” Murphy had perfect pitch as he climbed the scale. “Now, you know all the words.” His sweet, friendly grin was perfection as well.

  Rohan’s wasn’t half bad, either. “Think of it like this.” When he played up AC’s spine like a piano, showing him the tempo, it brought a shiver. “Stand next to me.”

  “Or me,” Emery suggested.

  “Or me. I’m the boss.” Murphy sidled up closer.

  With so many handsome faces smiling at him, AC found resistance futile. He offered one back, scooped up Spud, and said, “I’ll t-try.”

  “Nice. And. Slow.” Yoshie winked. “Hit it, Murph.”

  Murphy cleared his throat. “One, two, three…”

  “La, la, la, l-l-la. S-s-sorry.” AC was already behind.

  “No worries,” Rick said. “And your voice is angelic.”

  “It i-is n-n-not.”

  “I have to agree with Rickster,” Manny said. “And I’m grumpy.”

  AC’s chest tightened as he thought of the very same word written in his idiotic slam book.

  “One more time.” When Murphy clapped, the other ten snapped to attention. “La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

  AC didn’t sing the first set, but as the others continued to go up an octave at a time, he did drop in and out. Sometimes he came close, sometimes not. “La, la, la, l-l-l-la, la, la, la.” Still, he did always manage to get back on track to finish with everyone else.

  “La, la, la.” Just for kicks, he threw in a very brief solo at the end of one run, while the others rested three beats for breath. The rousing applause was a surprise.

  “Go, you!” They surrounded him with hugs and kisses. Atop his head, both ears, his neck, chin, and nose, they got him everywhere. He’d even tasted someone’s lips. He just wasn’t sure whose.

  “Okay, huddle up.” Kiss time was done, though. Murphy ran a tight ship.

  “To all who watch over us,” he began. “Keep us in your care while we sleep tonight and continue on in our travels. Thank you for bringing us AC, what a gift he has been. Keep watch over him, too, and if only one of us can sleep well, make it handsome Atticus. Amen.”

  “Amen.” The echo came in four-part harmony, its silky tone and wondrous bravado causing another tingle.

  “We’re all going to crash outside.”

  “W-w-wait.” AC grabbed Murphy’s arm, right at the rock-hard bicep. “Wh—?”

  “No. The decision is made. You need sleep,” Murphy said, adding a caress upon AC’s cheek. “And you’re not going to get it if someone is back there chattering, snoring, rolling into you…We won’t disturb Carlton. Someone else can take the other front seat, maybe. You and Spud take the back, and the rest of us make do over there on all those benches.

  “I s-s-sleep sideways, c-c-curled up.”

  “Aww.” Apparently, several drummers thought that was adorable.

  “If w-w-we all s-s-sleep that way, we can f-f-fit at l-least s-s-six guys, e-even with the wheel w-wells.”

  “You sure?” Murphy asked.

  “Y-yes. And the r-r-rest of you c-can sleep on my m-m-mattress.”

  “You, sir, are a sweetie pie.” Hewlett’s opinion was likely to change once he spent his time up front, AC thought. It would for sure, if he ever saw the ratings notebook. AC still hadn’t thrown it away. He kept forgetting.

  Murphy took charge, as usual. Via the random draw app on his phone, he got the other front seat, while Hewlett, Rohan, Yoshi, Emery, and Ixaax ended up in the back with AC. “No goofing off.” Murphy laid down the law. “Sleep only.”

  AC passed out a couple of blankets and dragged out his air mattress for those who wanted to try to squeeze onto it. There were several outlets at the rest stop, plus charging stations. The modernity of some of them was amazing to AC, who traveled often.

  Within another twenty minutes, everyone was ready to settle in for a short winter’s nap.

  “Good night, AC,” Rohan said.

  “G-g-good night, Rohan.”

  “Good night, Em. Good night, Yoshi. Good night, Hewlett. Good night, Ixaax.”

  “Good night, Rohan.” Hewlett was all smiles, still visible with the light from the van door being open.

  “Buenas noches, Manny.”

  Just when AC thought Rohan and the others might go on forever, “Good night, everyone,” Manny pulled the door shut and nipped it in the bud.

  AC was used to sleeping on the floor of the van. He liked a solid surface for slumber, and hardly ever bothered with the mattress at all, usually opting for just a sleeping bag. He’d unzipped it all the way around, to spread the soft, thinly padded fabric out flat, to offer the slightest bit of cushioning beneath himself and his new friends.

  Spud settled in behind AC’s knees, with AC curled up at Hewlett’s back. A faint aroma of mint wafted about. Some or all the men had likely brushed their teeth. When Hewlett turned back to offer one more good night, mouthed but not spoken, AC knew he’d been one of them. AC had skipped that part of his nightly ritual.

  “Good night,” he mouthed back. I hope I don’t end up kissing someone before morning. That, he just thought.

  AC only woke up twice during the night, once when Hewlett’s erection poked him in the ass, and once when their hard-ons met as they cuddled face to face, one in underwear, one in sweatpants. When AC rolled over, Hewlett pressed right back against him, pulling AC close and nuzzling into his neck. For only a moment, AC thought about moving. Then he fell right back to sleep that way, with Hewlett spooning him, which was exactly how they woke up at the crack of dawn, four hours later.

  Everyone walked around a bit to sha
ke off the morning stiffness, before hitting the road for day two. “I think your blanket had magical powers,” Carlton said, stretching to show his tummy as he climbed down out of the van, finally awake. “That is the longest I’ve slept in years!”

  AC tried not to zero in on the cum stains on Carlton’s shirt as he wondered if the pill had more to do with zonking out than the blanket.

  Carlton claimed otherwise. “I even try the Ambien once in a while. Usually, I just end up doing something dumb and embarrassing. Called an ex once and begged him to come back to me. Yikes. I didn’t really want him back,” he whispered. “Anyway, I hope I didn’t do anything weird or awkward during our time together last night, Murph.”

  “With me? Nope,” Murphy said. “You slept like a baby all the way through.”

  “I thought so.” Carlton looked to AC.

  “A-a-a-all g-g-good.” Lying made his stutter worse. He didn’t want to make Carlton feel bad, though. No harm, no foul. It was pretty hot, and the most action AC had gotten in a while.

  “Thanks again.” Carlton handed over the blanket, neatly folded. AC was going to offer to let him keep it. Who would want a blanket with the name Atticus on it, though, unless that was his name, too?

  “You’re w-welcome.”

  Hewlett knew full well how his night had gone. That made for a quiet, somewhat self-conscious first few minutes back in motion for him and AC up in front. Hewlett never stopped smiling, though, as he looked out the window, almost oohing and awing, as if he’d never seen anything like the gray, bleak Kentucky countryside before. “So, Whadda ya like better, elephants or eight hundred-pound gorillas?” he asked out of nowhere.

  “Huh?” AC wondered if he’d missed something Hewlett had spotted in the woods.

  “Sitting up here right between us.” The final T was silent in Hewlett’s words, and some of his vowels sounded like a different one because of his Dixie accent. He was much younger than his mullet would have one believe, possibly younger than AC, even.

  “Oh.”

  “I always did sleep better snug up against a man.”

  AC smiled.

  “It’s been a good long while, though. I sure as shootin’ appreciated it when I had it and miss it now that it’s gone.”

  “G-gone?”

  “My Benny. We met in college. I’m an Alabaman transplant who ended up at Harvard, where I met an aspiring politician with whom I had nothing in common. Benny and I had seven great years, two tough ones, and I’m almost through another two without him. Never thought I’d get through a week.”

  “I’m s-s-sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Hewlett said, wringing his hands. “Cancer is heinous.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s possible I’m looking at things through grief colored glasses, but I don’t remember a bad or fitful night beside him, you know what I mean?”

  AC was quiet.

  “You sleep okay?” Hewlett asked.

  Perfectly. AC just nodded, rather than share his thought.

  “As good as with the man you love?”

  AC had no idea what that would feel like. Fortunately, he didn’t have to say so.

  “My Benny made me promise him I wouldn’t be sad forever. ‘Two months, Hewie, and then I want you to find something to smile about every single day.’ It’s not hard, AC, if you try. Sure, the sadness isn’t gone, but the world has so many things going on in it to make a person happy. Those blinky eyes looking over at me for one.”

  Spud was enthralled.

  “Y-yes.”

  Hewlett glanced over. “And his owner’s eyes as well.”

  AC smiled.

  “And your smile.”

  AC laughed.

  “And your laugh.”

  “S-s-stop.”

  “Okay. I will.” Hewlett’s smile faded away. “We loved Christmas. Did it up big. My first year without Benny, I didn’t even get a tree. As the second approached, I wanted to do something. Something different. There was an opening with these fellers, so here I am.”

  “Nice.”

  Hewlett suddenly changed the subject. “Benny’s parents are fighting me for everything he owned.” He twisted the ring still on his finger. “We never did this legally, just under the trees at a cabin in Maine we bought together so all our Christmases could be white. They want it. Even though they hadn’t spoken to Ben in years, even though they had nothing to do with what he made of himself, even though they never met me, they have a lawyer saying he would want them to have it.” Hewlett took a breath. “We ran to all sorts of doctors and treatments, and maybe I never wanted to believe the inevitable, because we put off seeing a lawyer. I’ll relinquish everything. I’ll hand it all over, but somehow, I hope I can hang on to that cabin. Benny actually told me it’s the place he wants me to take the next man I fall in love with. It’s special. Ben was special. I couldn’t imagine a life without him until very recently. It might be time to move on, to give up.”

  “W-why?”

  Hewlett shrugged. “I, uh, put every cent I had into buying our little getaway in the woods. I don’t have much left to pay a lawyer to fight for it, and all of Ben’s finances are frozen, until…Oh.”

  A gasp made AC turn.

  “Did you see that?” Hewlett asked.

  “W-w-what?”

  “The sign in front of the church we just passed. It must have been windy. All the letters blew off or something, except an A, a C, two dashes, and a sideways D. The last three things made kind of a smiley face.”

  AC hadn’t seen it.

  “I look for messages from beyond all the time. Do you believe in that sort of thing, AC?”

  “I g-g-guess.”

  Hewlett was all smiles again. “Benny is reminding me to be happy.” He took AC’s free hand a moment. “He’d have liked you, just for what you’re doing for us…getting us up to Vermont. It’s a reminder in itself, it is, that there’s good in the world.”

  “I’ve b-b-been r-reminded of th-that as well,” AC said.

  Chapter 9

  Rob: Two stars. Bright Green. Robbin’ the cradle more like it. Seems to be obsessed with Ixaax, the kid with the bat tattoo and about a million others. Batman and Robbin’…maybe they’re a thing. Ixaax—what’s with that name, by the way—looks to be about twenty years younger. Robbin’ is average. Mid-forties, maybe. I’m probably too old for him, so who cares? Plus, he’s groomed his eyebrows to the point he hardly has any left. Leave the hair where it grows, dude. Hasn’t hardly looked at me once, so F him.

  AC was finishing up a lengthy conversation with his sister-in-law, Luanne, when Rob climbed into the seat beside him.

  “Hi.”

  AC waved. Once again, he hadn’t gotten a chance to grab the notebook containing his harsh, mean-spirited, and definitely premature evaluations. He envisioned tossing it over a cliff, down a ravine, into the middle of the highway to be destroyed by a convoy of big rig eighteen wheelers, or into a roaring fireplace somewhere, one with pine garland and stockings hung with care. After speaking with Bartholomew, and now Luanne, AC was suddenly in the mood for a family Christmas.

  “We almost ready?” Rob clicked and unclicked his seatbelt three times.

  AC nodded, while still trying to concentrate on his phone call. Luanne did all the talking. She’d called in response to AC’s text, to explain how his name had been embroidered on the afghan Carlton had slept with so comfortably the night before. AC didn’t understand most of it, but he loved Luanne’s enthusiasm.

  “We should go.” Rob started pulling at his eyebrows. “Hurry up, AC.”

  AC held up a finger. A day and a half ago, he might have chosen the middle one. “I g-g-gotta get m-movin’, Luanne. I’ll s-s-see you in a d-d-d-day or so.”

  “I can’t wait! I think those are the most words you’ve said to me since I married Sullivan ten years ago. I want to hear some more!”

  “Thank you. T-there are t-two r-r-right th-there.”

  “Love you, AC. I’ll have
Sullivan get back to you concerning the other matter.”

  “Th-thanks, Luanne. B-bye.”

  “Let’s play a game,” Rob insisted the moment AC turned off his phone.

  “O-k-kay.”

  “Think of a color.”

  “G-green.” AC went with the color of Rob’s shirt.

  “Okay, so we have to keep naming green things, until we can’t think of any, and then we come up with another color. Like a driving game. We could just sing ‘One Hundred Bottles of Beer,’ but this involves more thinking.”

  “You l-l-like to th-think?”

  “I kind of have to. I’ll go first. Christmas tree.”

  “Frog.”

  “Christmas wreath.”

  The road was busy. AC had to wait a while to pull out into traffic.

  “Go, AC.”

  “Oh. S-s-sorry. T-traffic l-l-light.”

  “Spud’s eyes.”

  Cars were still coming.

  “Go, AC.”

  “Um, g-g-g-grass.” Fuck this was not a good game for AC, especially while waiting for an opening in bumper to bumper morning traffic.

  “Leaves.”

  “Um…m-m-m-mon-m-m-money.”

  “I’m making you nervous.” Rob frowned.

  “I’m g-good.” A woman in a red Jeep let them in.

  “I have something that sometimes causes really bad social anxiety.”

  “L-l-like R-Rohan.”

  “No. He’s just shy. He’s quiet. I can’t stop talking.”

  “Like Emery.”

  “No,” Rob said. “It’s its own thing…what I have.”

  “Oh.”

  “I glommed onto Ixaax several years ago. He got me into this. Onstage, I’m fine. Backstage, I can’t let him out of my sight. He’s probably sorry he recruited me.”

  “Nah.” AC hoped his smile would be calming.

  “Maybe. So, I keep talking, so I don’t imagine all the bad stuff that could happen. Car crashes. House fires. My mom having a heart attack. Alligators are green.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your turn.”

  “Oh.” AC thought a moment. “P-p-peas.”

  “Lettuce. I think of bad things all the time, bad things at home especially, whenever I’m not there. My parents get tired of me. They’re old. I’m old and a burden. They sort of forced me into this to get me out of their hair. Go, AC.”