Christmas Ghosts Read online

  “Yep, that was you. The precocious brat who knew we were making out but not how to knock on a closed door. You were such a rude little shit.”

  “Still am. It’s part of my charm.”

  “And why you went through a roommate a year in college?” Steve and their mom spent many hours over the years doing long-distance roommate tolerance calls and chats with Pete. “Seriously, you’d think I taught you better how to live with other people.”

  “I know, right? I’m such a brat. But I promise to be good while I’m here.” Pointing toward the corner of the living room where their Christmas tree normally stood, Pete went on. “I can go up to the attic and get the tree and ornaments tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know if we should. Not sure I can decorate the tree without turning into a ball of snot. It’s going to be hard, Pete.” Steve was dreading it. “Hell, there’s a ham in the freezer she was going to make us for dinner. We could still have it. Ham’s easy to cook. Turkey’d be a challenge.”

  “Oh God, no. No turkey cooking for either of us. No tree is okay with me too. Hell, we can get Chinese food and watch Netflix all day. Next year we can do the tree.”

  Steve was relieved Pete felt the same as he did about the horror of having Christmas without their mom. He thought about telling him that the twins invited them to their parents’ place, but he’d already refused and didn’t want to get into an argument with Pete about it.

  “So what play are they doing for Christmas, not that there are a lot of choices?”

  “They’re doing A Christmas Carol set in present day with a woman playing Scrooge, so the clothes will really come in handy. I wanted to ask you about helping them out?” Steve asked after sneaking the dog a few more fries. “The sets aren’t done, and their volunteers aren’t exactly skilled with hammers and nails.”

  “Unlike the two of us,” Pete said, nodding like a bobble-headed toy. “That’s a great idea. We can shift bedrooms tomorrow. The rest of the house, I can finish when you go back to work since I’m not going back to school until the fall or maybe summer. It’ll keep me busy while you’re busy.”

  “You can come to work with me until then too. Save up some money until school starts.”

  “That also sounds like a great plan. I’m pretty broke.”

  “I KNEW it!” Camille sang as she danced around backstage while she pushed the last of the garment racks into the costume area. “You still like him!”

  “I never said I didn’t!” Troy shouted back as he picked up the jewelry box Steve had left behind. They’d been going to look through it, but then Steve got a text from Pete reminding him he was “going to die” if he didn’t get food soon. The three had lost track of time, and it’d been great as far as Troy was concerned.

  “I think he’s still into you too. He was checking you out.” She came back without the fake leopard coat, which was a shock to Troy, but then it wasn’t a normal winter day outside. If it’d been cold, neither he nor Steve would’ve been able to get her to leave it. He hoped she didn’t try to claim any of the jewelry, because it still seemed wrong to wear a donation.

  “That’s only fair. I wasn’t exactly avoiding looking at him. He looked good, didn’t he?” He got up slowly with his hands on his thighs while he waited for the pins and needles to stop in his bad leg. If he tried to walk before the feeling came back, he’d end up face-planting, and then Cam would either laugh at him or panic. Neither was an option he wanted.

  “Steve always looks good.” Camille stepped to his side. “Here, lean on me. I’m more stable than that rickety old chair. Physically anyway. Not too sure about mentally.”

  “You know, it’s less fun if you insult yourself before I get to go for the joke.”

  “My bad.” She also picked up the jewelry box and tucked it under her arm for the long walk back to the lobby and her office. “I’m not stealing this. The office is safer, and while this is costume, it’s still good costume.”

  “Wasn’t saying a thing,” he said as he looped an arm over her shoulder and leaned on her. He was thankful she was nearly the same height as he was, although if he was being honest, he also wished she were Steve. “I tease you, but I know you’ll always do the right thing.”

  By the time they got around the stage, Troy’s leg was awake, and he could walk with barely a limp. Mostly it was the stupid brace making him walk funny, and he couldn’t wait until he didn’t need it anymore. Still better than the cast he’d had to wear in the beginning.

  “I thought I might ask him to help out with the set,” he said as he sat on the arm of the end seat in the third row. “But would that be too transparent? Not as if I’m asking him to dinner, but it could lead in that direction.”

  “I think it’s a good idea on two levels. You’d get to spend more time with the love of your life—”

  “Steve Browning is not the love of my life.”

  “Have you seriously dated anyone since?” she asked with a smirk. “Not talking about sex. I’m talking about intimacy with emotion included.”

  “No, but I wasn’t exactly in a place where I could. Hookups on deployment are complicated, and I never went beyond friends with benefits with anyone.” Troy tilted back on the arm and gazed up at the scattered lights in the high ceilings and let out a sigh. “I do love him. What’s the second good thing about me asking him to help us out?”

  “The sets won’t look like shit or fall apart,” she said as she tugged Troy back to his feet. “I also think the last thing he and Pete need is to spend all their time alone in the house right now. I mean they’re not doing Christmas! We need to do something.”

  “Once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader.” He kissed the hair on her temple and then followed her to the office.

  “WOW.” CAMILLE’S voice was barely above a whisper when they finally opened the box of jewelry. Each velvet-lined section was filled with fancy designer pieces. She picked up a trio of glittering dragonflies in emerald, ruby, and sapphire and held them up to the light. “These are so pretty, big enough to see from the house, and look at the Egyptian stuff! Now I want to do Cleopatra or something like that.”

  “How about the Mummy for next Halloween? Why not do something fun like that? Besides, it’s a great love story.” Troy was picking through the box, taking the designs and grouping them together. “Their mom was so into Egypt. It’s a shame she never got to go there. I know she wanted to.”

  “Someday you and Steve need to go there for her.”

  “Jeez, Cam, you’re talking like we’re getting married. What if we’re just friends and that’s it for the rest of our lives?” He’d be fine with that. As long as they spent time together, he’d be happy. Maybe.

  “You should’ve gotten in touch with him when you first came home, Troy. That’s why everything’s awkward, but it’ll pass.”

  “He’s in shock. He said he was. I’ll ask him to help with the sets, but, Cam, I’m not going to expect more out of him. It’d be unfair to take advantage of him.”

  “Because you love him.”

  “Because I love him,” Troy said as he pulled out his crappy old cell phone. “Let me have his number from your phone, and I’ll ask him right now.” He carefully thumb-typed Steve and Pete’s contact info into the phone and sent a quick text.

  HEY YOU, wanted to see if you could help us with a project.

  If you’re going to ask me to help with the theater, I’m going to LOL.

  Oh?

  Pete and I already talked about it, and we’re volunteering to help. Mostly me. OK?

  Very much OK. Can you bring tools?

  Only if you don’t touch any of them. The thought of you with a nail gun terrifies me.

  Five

  UNLIKE THE day he’d delivered the boxes of clothes, the theater was packed when Steve and Pete showed up with toolbelts around their hips and heavy toolboxes in their arms. The backstage area was full of actors trying on costumes, makeup being tested, and people running their lines. Cam waved at them
and ducked away from the trio, who Steve thought were the Ghosts of Christmas, to give them both big hugs.

  “Morning! Troy’s on the stage waiting for you. He’s got the plans, and you saw all the lumber when you were here on Monday. There’s tarps all over to keep the mess to a minimum, so don’t worry about it too much.” She’d slipped her arm under Pete’s and was tugging him toward the side door to the stage that was propped open with all the curtains drawn back and the lights shining down to illuminate the entire space. It was so bright that Steve couldn’t see past the first few rows of seats, and that was only if he tried.

  “Do you usually wait this long to do your sets?” Steve asked. “I mean you open in four days. This can’t be normal.” Neither was the very nice view he was getting of the back of Troy’s shoulders as he tugged the edge of one of the huge tarps to flatten it out. His butt was pretty nice too from that angle.

  “Nooooo.” She gave him a wounded puppy look he hadn’t seen in a very long time but was oh-so-familiar. “The sets were ‘all put together.’” Her fingers formed air quotes. “But apparently the guys who volunteered didn’t know how to use a drill or measure or, well… anything. We were doing a rehearsal last week, and the back panel fell over. Then it was like dominos.”

  “Jesus, did anyone get hurt?” Steve asked, stepping carefully through the disorganized supplies while making mental notes on what they had, what they’d probably need, and what they didn’t, as well as how best to get it all started.

  “Sounds like a cunning plan of one of the understudies,” Pete said with a fake evil laugh and rubbed his hands together. “I shall be the star! All I need to do is remove the screws from the fake wall.”

  “Don’t mind my little brother. He’s like a three-year-old who ate a full box of brown sugar with nothing to go with it but a spoon.”

  “So basically not so different from my brother?”

  “Guess not.” Steve shook his head as Pete bounced across the stage to help Troy after hugging him from behind. “I refuse to turn into Eeyore while they’re both channeling Tigger.”

  “We all cope differently, hon. Troy’s been depressed because he got hurt doing something stupid and left his squad behind. I tried arguing with him about how it could’ve been worse, how he could’ve died or been really fucked-up. He tells me I’m right, which I know is a shock to me too, but he still feels like he blew it.”

  With a grunt, Cam took one toolbox from Steve’s hand and then squeezed his fingers, looking up into his eyes. “You’re in pain too. Trying to hold it all together for Pete, and I know we haven’t spent time together in years, but we’re here now.”

  Steve gave her hand a gentle squeeze in return and then kissed the back of her knuckles with a bow. “It’s like we’ve never been apart, to be honest. I know there’s water under the bridge, but it wasn’t anything bad. Just growing up and a little apart. I’m glad you guys needed help down here. Gets me out of my head.”

  “STOP FLIRTING with my sister, dude!” Troy said as he settled onto the edge of a footlocker he’d set up on the stage for when he needed a break. It wasn’t the best option, but it was a vast improvement over the director’s chair or the floor. At least it was too heavy to slide out from under him when he got up.

  “I am not flirting with your sister. She’s flirting with me.” Steve gave Camille a one-armed hug, picked up the tools she’d set on the floor, and joined Troy and Pete in the middle of the chaos.

  “As if. Been there done that. Got the heartbreak.” She put her hands on her hips and put on what Troy thought of as her bossy persona. “I need to get back to the talent. Try not to break anything, and that includes bones. Troy’s already got one messed-up leg, and that’s one too many. Pete, you’re in charge of these two assholes. Keep track of what they do and say to report to me later. I don’t want to miss anything good.”

  Pete saluted her and picked up a hammer. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make them work their asses off.”

  Troy and Steve looked at Cam, back to Peter, and then to each other and shrugged. “It’s better if she thinks she’s in charge, and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Troy said.

  “Jeez, we haven’t even started, and you’re already mutinying?” Pete said, shaking his head as he padded after Steve, who was taking a look at the plans.

  “Last time you tried to boss me around,” Troy pointed out, “your big brother and I chased you up the biggest tree in your backyard and sat on the ground without letting you get down. Did you forget?”

  “Nope. Didn’t forget. How could I forget all the amateur kissing I was forced to watch? Hope you guys learned something since then.”

  “Oh, trust me, I have,” Troy said without looking at Peter. His eyes were locked right on Steve in a soundless challenge.

  STEVE SETTLED onto the free corner of the footlocker where Troy was taking a break, and opened a can of sparkling, flavored water. The stuff was a bit froufrou for his taste, but it was nice after all the work they’d done. His back was stiff, but it wasn’t too bad. Unlike Pete and Troy, he was used to carpentry and the work that went into it.

  There was a snort and a snore from the first row where Pete had fallen asleep after they’d finished the last of the major panels for the set. They were sturdy, balanced, and with the wheels Steve had brought attached on the bottom, they could easily be moved for scene changes. “Those should last a good long time. If we cover them with butcher paper, we can paint them between shows and just rip them off for the next. What do you think?”

  “I THINK that’s brilliant,” Troy said, taking a long drink of his own can of water. He frowned, discovering it was empty already, and grabbed a fresh one from the small cooler Cam had set up for them. “Much better than trying to cover old paint over and over again. We’ll wrap them after this production for the next one. She’s trying to do one every quarter. Not sure what the plan is for spring.”

  His leg was throbbing, so he leaned to the side to pull a small pillbox from his jeans pocket, took a pair of Advil from it, and washed them down. Then he opened a torpedo sandwich from the deli across the street and passed the second half to Steve. “There’s another one in there if we’re still hungry.”

  “I know,” Steve said before taking a bite. “And I’m pretty sure we will be.” He brought up his arm and brushed his sweaty bangs from his forehead. “At least we’ve got it organized. Your leg hurting bad? Pete and I can finish if you need us to.”

  “Nope, I’m good. Or I will be. This is good for me.” Troy stretched out his legs before focusing on eating. All the hard work had him sore and starving. He could’ve just handed Steve his own sandwich and woken up Pete for his, but it was fun to share. He considered it being cautiously romantic. Sort of flirting or something like that.

  “We should be able to finish up the rest tomorrow or tonight if we stay up. Pete’ll have to go home and take care of Ophie, though. She’s got a dog door, but she can’t feed herself.”

  “Thank God! She wouldn’t be able to fit through the door if she did. I can’t believe she’s still around.”

  “Us either, to be honest. I thought she’d go when Dad died, but she took care of Mom. I think she knew something was wrong even though I didn’t.”

  “Animals are perceptive like that.” Troy almost asked more about Steve’s mom, but Pete picked that moment to wake up. He looked bleary-eyed, all arms and legs, as he climbed out of the seat and back onto the stage where he grabbed a sandwich and can of water.

  “What’s the next project?” Pete asked as he reached for the checklist Steve had made for them to follow.

  THREE DAYS later Steve was sitting in the middle of the stage, looking at their handiwork. It wasn’t quite done, but it was close enough for the night, which was a good thing since it was late. They were sore, smelly, and covered in sawdust.

  Camille had taken Pete home a few hours ago to take care of the dog, and Steve was going to suggest to Troy that it was time for them to go home too. The p
roblem was that, even though he was tired, he didn’t want to go home. It’d been too good of a day to leave and get sad all over again, and after the crew left for the night, it was the first time he’d been alone with Troy.

  “You ready to get out of here?” he asked as he leaned back on his elbows in the middle of the tarp. “We can hit a drive-thru on the way to your place. I know I’m hungry.”

  “I was going to suggest that. I’m starving, but this is too nice,” Troy said as he sank down onto the tarp next to Steve. He was close enough Steve could feel the warmth of him where their shoulders were almost touching. Troy stretched out the whole way, staring up at the ceiling of the theater. They’d turned off the floodlights to see what the set looked like with a few spotlights, and with the tiny lights on the vaulted ceiling, it looked almost like the night sky.

  “Remember the last time we went camping?” Steve rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand, moving his attention from the lights to the rhythm of Troy’s breathing. “Staring up at the stars like Timon and Pumbaa, right down to the fart jokes.”

  “If only it’d been as warm as Africa. It was so cold. We fell asleep watching shooting stars, and then got drenched when it started raining in the middle of the night. I remember shivering in the back seat of the car while you tried to warm me up.”

  “It worked. At least in here, we don’t have to worry about getting wet.” His fingers found Troy’s, and he cautiously wove them together. He knew they were connected and probably always would be. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” Troy shifted closer and nibbled on the edge of Steve’s shoulder, which made Steve chuckle and tighten his grip on Troy’s hand.

  “Still a biter, I see.”

  “Yeah, but now I do it on purpose in the right places.”