“I get it,” Sully sighed, freeing the cork at last.It popped with a sizzle and a hiss, the sudden burst of bottled bubbly alighting on the gentle spring breeze to tickle Dean’s nose at two paces.“I’d do the same if you said something gushy and gooey back on the streets of Pistol Creek.”
“So what are you busting my balls for, then?”Dean chided, admiring the way Sully effortlessly pulled two plastic champagne flutes from the crammed-full picnic basket.
“Cuz it’s so fun,” Sully teased, pouring them both a glass before setting the bottle down on the back of the truck.
Dean took his greedily, thirstier than he’d care to admit.They’d shared a few donuts and half a pot of coffee in the Ghost Tour Headquarters earlier that morning while Sully had handed over a bag full of store-bought clothes.Clothes, Dean reminded himself now, that had been bought at his store.Sully’s store, just one of many investments in his overstuffed portfolio, it would seem.Sully raised his glass in toast and, clinking it, Dean winked in the day’s waning sun.
“Here’s to busting your balls for real, later,” he murmured, sipping before Sully could object.
“Why wait?”Sully teased, sinking onto the tailgate of his truck and nodding across the picnic basket for Dean to do the same.
“I mean,” Dean snorted, sitting on the opposite side of the hinged door.It was high up and, as usual, his feet didn’t quite reach the ground the way Sully’s did, those big cowboy boots planted firmly in the dust of his vast tract of land.“It’s a little public, don’t you think?”
Sully sipped his champagne thoughtfully, gazing out across the endless green acreage that surrounded them in all four directions.It was clear, flat and deserted, as far as the eye could see.Green grass, gently rolling hills, a smattered tree line, all bucolic under the quietly setting sun.“That’s what’s kind of exciting about it, you know?”
“Sully, honestly?”
Sully set his plastic glass down next to him and rooted through the picnic basket between them.He was casual, slow, unbothered by the day’s end and his exciting proposition of ...what, exactly, Dean still wasn’t sure.Eventually Sully brought out a platter, wrapped in foil and benefiting from the chiller bag that had held it all.As the foil peeled back, it revealed meats and cheeses, grapes and sliced apples and naked almonds.
“You made this?”Dean teased, plopping a plump green grape inside his mouth and all but passing out from the explosion of fresh fruit bursting on his hungry tongue.
Sully nearly spit out a wedge of cheese.“Hell, naw,” he chuckled, all but slapping his knee as if they were reciting dirty farm boy limericks around a flickering campfire.“There’s a little deli in town and I asked Sally, the owner, to whip me up something a City Slicker like you might enjoy after a long day strolling through Gravel Gulch.”
Dean ignored the teasing, too hungry by far to protest as he savored the fine meats and cheeses and savory, almost sultry fruit.“Kudos,” he mumbled greedily around another full mouthful, hoisting his plastic glass in mock toast before washing it all down with crisp, cool bubbly.
“Not bad, huh?”Sully mused, wiping his hands off on the thighs of his jeans before grunting and turning and crawling around into the back of the truck, jostling the champagne bottle until it nearly fell off the hinged door and toppled over into the dirt at their feet.
“The hell?”Dean blurted, grabbing hold of the picnic basket as well.
Sully grunted, ignoring him as he undid a small, thin tarp that had rustled and fluttered their whole way down Route 9 and then beyond, down rutted roads and overgrown lanes to Gravel Gulch itself.At last a picture emerged.Or, Dean might say, an aesthetic—throw pillows, fairy lights, cozy blankets that, unfurled, fluttered with little boho fringe nearly to where Dean sat.In moments, the bed of Sully’s truck looked like some gastropub waiting lounge, thick comfy pillows and winking lights and, once he’d cued up his phone, the lilting twang of country music set just about right.
Dean had turned, adjusting himself slightly, pulling one knee up and resting his chin atop it as the other swung almost absently just above the ground beneath them.He admired Sully’s handiwork, but even more so the little touches he added until he was satisfied.Fluffing up the pillows, then frowning and moving them just a little to the left, then the right, before even more fluffing, adjusting the volume on his cell phone, clearly hooked into a speaker somewhere hidden from view and, finally, tugging the blanket until it covered every inch of the rusty truck bed, almost forgotten beneath.
At last Sully turned, still crouched amidst his little redneck wonderland, waving one long, veiny hand toward his handiwork as if making an introduction.“How about now, shy guy?”
“It’s beautiful,” Dean acknowledged, the setting sun at their backs making it even more so as it illuminated not just the gently winking fairy lights wrapped around the entire truck bed but Sully’s hard, taut face.“You’rebeautiful,” he added, throat cracking as Sully finally sank onto the pillows at his back.He laced his fingers behind his neck, stretching out to his full height and crossing his ankles, smirking like he knew just how pretty he looked there, face aglow in the soft winking lights and gently setting sun.
