It wouldn’t be hard for a bully like Gerald to manipulate Mr. Crosby’s addled mental state. He could probably convince the poor old man that Junior didn’t even exist until he was sobered up enough to come back to work.
That’s probably all it was, Tom thought. Junior was strung out, and in a few days, he would get clean and get right back to his normal raging asshole self. The burglaries would get sorted out, the media would forget all about the funeral home, and everything would be fine.
The only thing Tom needed to worry about right now was what to wear to his first sex party.
Khakis and a dark gray polo shirt were what Tom finally decided on after thoroughly gutting his closet and dresser. He was going to look like a clerk at a damn cell phone kiosk in the mall.
He really needed to go shopping.
After taking care of Mister Doodles, he puttered around the house doing a few quick chores while he waited for Cypress to come pick him up. He took a shower and put on the dismal outfit, making faces at himself in the mirror.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
The khakis fit his thick hips and legs well, and after taking a quick peek, wow, yeah, his ass looked really good in these.
Tom wasn’t sure where the fresh boost of confidence was coming from. Maybe it was because he stood up to Junior earlier or perhaps it was his chat with Cypress last night. Whatever it was, he was going with it.
“Tiger,” he told Mister Doodles proudly as he fixed her kibble. “I am a tiger, my butt looks great, and I am going to a sex party.”
Mister Doodles did not appear impressed by the declaration or her food.
“Hmph. Thanks for your support.” Tom, hearing a knock at the door, hurried to answer it.
Cypress was standing on his doorstep in dark jeans, a maroon hooded sweatshirt, tan boots, and looked flawlessly handsome as usual.
“Hey,” Tom said, hugging him close and kissing him.
“Mm, hey yourself.” Cypress smiled. “Mm, you look great.”
“Ha, I look like I’m gonna try to sell you a new cell phone.”
“Nah, you look good.” Cypress gave him a once over. “Definitely like the pants.”
Tom beamed.
“Are you ready?” Cypress asked. “Has the little man-eater been given tribute?”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Tom replied. “Uh, are we… coming back here tonight?”
“We’ll see how the night goes.” Cypress grinned. “I’ll make sure you’re back home before you turn into a pumpkin.”
“Or the dog shits on my carpet.”
“That, too.”
They rode together in Cypress’s car, holding hands and chatting about their days. Tom left out his confrontation with Junior, deciding he would save that for thebigtalk he still wanted to have later.
Cypress was trusting him so much, and Tom wanted to do the same.
“Now, when we get there,” Cypress said, turning off the main road into a heavily wooded subdivision, “you’re gonna see a bunch of people waiting outside. You can wave, nod your head, but nobody is really gonna talk until we’re inside.”
“Uh, okay?”
“Some of them don’t feel like themselves until they’re in play mode,” Cypress explained. “You’ll see. Just smile and wave, and when everybody is ready, you’ll know.”
Tom was a little confused, but he decided to take Cypress’s word for it.
As they drove deeper into the neighborhood, the houses got older, and the trees got thicker. These homes had a few acres of land or more, and Tom wondered how far out of the city they had come. It was peaceful here, quiet, and he could see so many stars.
