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Ricky had been planning the thing for months. Well, okay, maybe not months. He had been thinking about it for months, that was for sure. But actually planning it… well, he’d kinda put it off. But now, Ricky figured that, since he only had a few hours left, he'd better get really planning for real.
He wanted to do something big. Something that would go off without a hitch. It had to work, it just had to. If it wasn't big enough and it didn’t go off perfect, he'd be fucked.
The reason he needed such a good plan was because he had a big fucking problem. After a whole bunch of star searching and looking inside and stuff, he had recently found out about himself that he was gay for his best friend Julian. He really was too, it wasn’t like just a jail thing when there weren’t any chicks around so you had to be. He had tried not thinking about him, but that had worked just about as good for him as not drinking had been working for Mr. Lahey. It just made him want Julian more.
He had tried to get him off his mind by trying things out with Lucy one more time, but that was a bust, ‘cause she was always banging cops, and he had even tried getting with Sarah again, but she said she was only banging guys with their own trailers now, so there he was. Stuck wanting to bang his buddy. Pretty bad.
So, after a while, he just gave in and started thinking about how to tell Julian. He needed to tell him, just to get it off his chest. And because he felt bad about it, like Julian was just going along thinking they were friends, and meanwhile, Ricky wanted to bang him. It was like lying. A decepticon.
But, as luck would half it, Valentime's Day was coming up, and Ricky couldn’t think of a better time for telling someone that you're gay for them, so he had started planning. He decided that he could surprise Julian with a big nice dinner, and maybe get him drunk too, and then tell him what was goin’ on inside his big stupid fuckin’ head, and maybe then Julian wouldn’t get mad and kick his ass too hard.
There were a coupla problems, though. First, he didn’t really know what to make him for dinner. He had to go big, so it had to be really nice, nicer than even the expensive chicken fingers. He finally decided on Beef Strokin’ Off, like they had in jail sometimes, that was pretty good shit. Except his would be even better than the cheap jail stuff, ‘cause he was gonna make his from scratch. With love, and all that stuff.
He would need the ingreedymints for it, though. He didn’t have shit in the Shitmobile, not even fuckin’ noodles, so he had to get some help. That's why, on the morning of Valentime’s Day, he found himself freezing his balls off on J-Roc’s porch, pounding on the door loud enough to be heard over the rap blasting inside.
“J-Roc, fuckin' open up already!” he bellowed, breath fogging in the freezing air. He was about to kick the door down when J-Roc finally flung it open, looking happy to see him and possibly also a little high.
He greeted Ricky with a handslap and pulled him inside the trailer. “Get in, sucka, lettin’ all the hizzeat out, knomsayin’?”
Ricky was way too stressed out to fuck around with J-Roc, so he got straight to the point. “Look, I need some shit. I'll give you some dope in return, but you gotta hook me up. It's fuckin’ important, alright?”
J-Roc bounced up and down a few times, nodding and slapping T’s hand, as T appeared beside him. “Aight, aight, we gotchu, knomsayin’? Whatchu need, son?”
Ricky gave him the list he had written out that morning, and he watched as J-Roc opened it up and studied it for a moment.
“Mahfucka, this is food, knowmsayin’?”
“Uh, yeah,” Ricky breathed, like it was the most obvious thing in the whole trailer park. “You guys steal food from the grocery store all the time. So fuckin’ get me some, okay?”
J-Roc was shaking his head. “Yo, we been outta the grocery gankin’ game for months, dawg.”
“Yeah, we're workin’ on a new grease movie man,” T piped up. “Doughnut Hos. A continuation of our series, ‘cept now we got some fine lady cops, man.”
“Yo, shit’s gonna be tight!” J-Roc exclaimed, throwing in plenty of excited record scratches, as he bumped T’s shoulder and slapped hands with him.
Ricky rolled his eyes and huffed. “I don’t give a fuck about your stupid movie contemplation, you idiots.” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and picked out as many dollars as he could spare. “Fine, take some money too, just… fuckin’ make it happen. It's really important, guys.”
J-Roc and T exchanged looks, and finally, J-Roc shrugged in acceptance. “Aight, man, aight. ‘Cuz it's you, mahfucka.”
Ricky went through the whole hand grab, hug, hand slap routine again, feeling relieved. “Thanks, man, really. I owe you guys one.”
“Just keep us supplied with that fine-ass dope at those reasonable-ass prices, mahfucka.” J- Roc followed him out the door, at least until he felt how cold it was outside, and he let out a squeal before running back in and closing the screen door. “Peace, Ricky, we'll getcher shit later, when we get on some coats, knomsayin’….”
Ricky ignored J-Roc and his stream of record scratches that faded into the house as he went to get a coat. Now, he was headed for Sarah’s trailer. He would need a coupla useless idiots for the next phase of his plan and he knew just the guys.
***
Ricky found Cory and Trevor standing in the Convenients Store, frozen almost to death. He bummed a coupla smokes off of Trevor, and lit one while he shivered in his coat.
“Why aren't you idiots inside? You look like a coupla fuckin’ Oreos or whatever, freezin’ out here.”
“Sarah told us to watch the store for a couple of hours,” Cory explained.
“She said she was having someone over,” Trevor added.
“Yeah, she was puttin’ on makeup and everything. And then, when we were leaving, we saw Lucy drive up, and she smelled like major pot, dude.”
“I think she was drunk, too, man,” Trevor laughed.
Ricky did not need to be thinking about Lucy getting stoned and wasted and whoring around right now. He barely felt even a tiny bit of jealousy when he thought about it, anyway. He was about to go be gay with Julian, what did he care if Lucy was getting all cozy with Sarah and they were both quince ‘n’ dentally having a guy over at the same time?
“Look, I don’t fuckin’ care about all that,” he told Cory and Trevor with a sigh. “I got my own shit goin’ on, and I need you two fuckin’ idiots to help me.”
If Cory and Trevor had tails, they would've started wagging. “Yeah, sure, Ricky, I mean, just tell us what to do, man,” Cory said eagerly.
“Okay, I just need you guys to do one simple thing. Keep Julian the fuck out of his trailer today. Can you two do that without fuckin’ the fuck up?”
Cory glanced at an uneasy looking Trevor before turning back to Ricky. “Well, like… what do you want us to do, exactly?”
“I dunno, just distract him somehow. Figure it out.”
“But how?” Trevor whined, and Ricky had had it about up to here with them.
“I don’t fuckin’ know!” He felt like he was on the edge of exploding, all the stress of figuring out the plan and the danger of it going fucking wrong beginning to weigh on him. But he couldn't go off like that, not now. He had to keep it together. For Julian.
So Ricky took a deep breath instead. “Okay. How about this. Julian's been trainin’ you guys, right? He's been learnin’ you all that criminal stuffs, right? So just go up and ask him, be like ‘Hey, we wanna learn about such and such.’ But make sure it's somethin’ that'll take a few hours, because that's how long I need him gone for, alright?”
“Okay, Ricky,” Cory said, sounding determined.
“You can count on us, Ricky,” Trevor assured him.
“Fuckin’ better,” Ricky muttered, lighting his other cigarette. He quickly motioned for Trevor to give him another one.
He was gonna need about a million fuckin’ cigarettes to deal with this day. And he had only got through two halfs of the fuckin’ plan so far. One more half to go.
***
The next step would be the most difficult of all. At first, he had just planned to get some whiskey or vodka or whatever cheap stuff he could find for his and Julian's dinner, but then he remembered that he wanted this dinner to be extra decent, and he decided to get a bottle of nice wine instead. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the extra ten bucks to get a really nice one, so he would have to go beg a bottle from the only guy in the trailer park that he knew would have every kind of alcohol there was.
When he knocked on Mr. Lahey’s door, he was greeted by that big cheeseburger fuck Randy, still shirtless even in the middle of fuckin’ February. He looked like he had gotten hairier too, for the winter.
“What the frig do you want, Ricky?” He had the door cracked open just enough for Ricky to see his face and gut sticking out into the cold.
“I gotta talk to Mr. Lahey. Alone.”
“Now's not a great time, Ricky,” he said, voice a bit lower. “Mr. Lahey’s drunker than usual right now, so if you could just go, and maybe come back in a coupla hours….”
“Fuck no,” Ricky spat, shoving the door open further. Randy staggered back, and Ricky could see why he had hidden from view; he was wearing nothing but an adult diaper, a bow slung across his back, a pair of little white wings, and, to top it all off, a curly blonde wig.
“Why the fuck are you dressed like a fuckin’ angel?” Ricky sneered, shoving past him to get to the living room, where he found Mr. Lahey, dressed in a brown deer costume, with a little black nose and ears and a white tail and everything.
“You shot me, Randy,” he was slurring from where he was sprawled on the floor. “Come and collect your quarry!”
Ricky wrinkled his nose at the sight and stepped over him to get a closer look at the liquor bottles lining the walls. “Hey, Mr. Lahey, I gotta borrow something real quick, alright?”
He woulda been out of there in two fucking minutes if it hadn't been for Randy and his big fuckin’ mouth. But oh no, Randy had to yell at Lahey to get up, just ‘cause Ricky was trying to borrow his liquor. Treating him like some kinda common criminal. Yeah, right.
Before he could sock Randy right in his dumb mustardy mouth, Ricky was backed against the liquor cabinet with an arrow pointing at his face. Randy had apparently been wearing Mr. Lahey’s actual bow and arrow as part of his costume, and was now holding him up with it, as Mr. Lahey struggled to his feet, his drink sloshing dangerously.
“He was trying to steal it, Mr. Lahey. You gotta call the cops or something!”
Lahey held up a hand to Randy, silencing him. “Hold your fire! Maybe you should let me handle this, Bobandy,” he told him. “Go ahead, lower your weapon.”
Randy did as he was told, and Ricky looked back and forth at the two of them. “Look, I'm sorry I interrupted your stupid little play. But I need some help here, alright? It's fuckin’ important.”
“Oh, yeah?” Lahey weaved and bobbed as he poked Ricky in the chest with the hand holding his drink. Some sloshed onto Ricky’s shirt and he recoiled as far back as he could. “And why should I,” slosh, “help you?” slosh. “Huh?” slosh.
Ricky had to think fast. He held his hands up in surrender and tried to move away from the liquor. “Alright, okay, I'll tell you. But this is just between me and you and Julian, okay? Not Randy.”
At the mention of Julian’s name, Lahey snapped to attention as much as he drunkenly could. “Well, you heard him, Rand.” He pointed his drink towards the door, then as if something was pulling his hand back to his mouth, he took a desperate swig before shakily pointing again.
“But, Mr. Lahey,” Randy whined, “I'm not wearing any pants.”
Lahey regarded him with glassy eyes. “It'll only be for a moment, Rand. Just a moment.”
Sullenly, Randy trudged to the door and went outside, and Ricky got as close to Lahey as he could stand. “I need your nicest bottle of wine, okay? It's for Julian," he told him in a low voice. "He's been talking about wanting to get you some fancy drink for Valentime’s Day, but he can't afford it. I think he's wanting to ask you something, I dunno, but he needs it, and I can just give him some of yours and pretend I went out and got it for him.”
Lahey almost staggered back onto the sofa. He swallowed hard and Ricky tried not to look too excited. He had him in the palm of Julian's muscular hand.
“There's a merlot, top shelf there,” Lahey said quietly, pointing. “I should try to look surprised when he comes by, huh?”
Ricky shrugged. “You should be good at acting surprised, with all these plays you guys do,” he said as he located the bottle on the shelf. “This one, the Mer-lott?”
“Merlot,” Lahey corrected, still slightly out of it.
“Not what it says on the label,” Ricky muttered, mostly to himself. “God, you must be real fuckin’ drunk.” He tucked the bottle under his coat and made to leave. “Happy Valentime’s Day, Mr. Lahey.”
He got a distracted grunt in return as he headed out the door, passing a shivering Randy on the porch. He noted that a few snowflakes had begun to fall, and the daylight was fading fast. He only had an hour or two before Julian would return home, and he wanted to be ready.
***
Julian's car was not parked in front of his trailer when Ricky got there, but Bubbles was out, staring up at one of his kitties in the tree.
“Ricky, thank God you're here, Skid Mark got herself stuck up this tree here, and….”
Ricky held up a hand and gave Bubbles his best “fuck off” look. “I don’t have time right now, Bubs, I gotta get inside Jul’s house and get cookin’.” He held up the bags of groceries he had picked up from J-Roc, and Bubbles stared at him, mouth open.
“Whatcha got all that for? Feedin’ a fuckin’ whole army in there, Ricky?”
“Nah Bubs, it's just for me and Julian, that’s all. No big deal, okay?”
Bubbles seemed suspicious, and Ricky didn’t want him knowing everything just yet, plus he kinda needed his help anyway, so he set the grocery bags down on the ground and lit a cigarette. “Tell ya what. I help you get Skim Milk down from that tree, and you can help me cook and then we'll all eat together. Eh, Bubs?”
“Alright, Rick, but I don’t know how you'll be able to help her. I've been tryin’ for fuckin’ forever, I can't get her to budge.”
Ricky squinted up at the little black cat, as she looked down on them with big yellow eyes. “I know what'll get her down,” Ricky said around his cigarette, before stooping to open one of the grocery bags.
Bubbles watched him intently as he got out the meat he was going to use for the Beef Strokin’ Off, taking a small chunk off one of the strips.
Bubbles shifted from foot to foot. “Good idea, Ricky, but will she be able to smell it all the way up there?”
Ricky fished his lighter out of his pocket. He lit it under the piece of meat until it was smoking, and Bubbles waved the smell up to the cat in the tree.
“It's working, look!” he exclaimed.
Ricky followed Bubbles’ pointing finger to where the cat was stretching her neck out, sniffing with interest. She meowed curiously and Bubbles went to stand by the tree, calling for her and lifting his arms up.
“C’mon, Skiddy, c’mere girl! Aww, good girl!” The cat landed safely in Bubbles’ arms and was soon purring and smacking happily on her hunk of charred beef. Ricky reached out to scratch at her sleek, shiny fur, and Bubbles looked up at him gratefully.
“Thank God you came along, Ricky, or she woulda been up there all fuckin’ night…. It's too fuckin’ cold for that shit.”
Ricky waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Now go put that thing somewhere, we got fuckin’ work to do.”
***
Ricky found the spare key under Julian's porch and let himself and Bubbles into the trailer. Ricky was almost in panic mode, but Bubbles was a big help, cooking the noodles and the beef while Ricky made the sauce. Everything was bubbling away nicely when they began to hear the strange sounds.
Ricky froze with the stirring spoon in hand. “The fuck was that, Bubbles?” he hissed, as the rattling and scraping noises continued to emanate from the direction of the front door.
“Someone's tryin’ to break in,” Bubbles wheezed back, immediately ducking beneath the counter top. Ricky took his gun out, crouched low, and crept towards the door as quietly as he could.
“Who's there?” he called out, after positioning himself safely beside the door.
The noises stopped abruptly. “Whattayou mean, who's there?” Julian's voice boomed from outside.
Ricky's eyes went big as plates. He didn’t have time to respond, as the door swung open and an armed and deadly Julian stormed through, his gun pointed square at Ricky's face.
Thankfully, he lowered it after a moment of recognition. “Oh, fuck, it's you,” he breathed, shaking his head.
“Couldn’t you reckonize my fucking voice?” Ricky shot back. The ice in his veins was slowly melting, but it was being replaced by hot embarrassment. “Fuck’s sake, Julian, why are you even here?”
Julian stared at him like he was as dumb as a bag of leaves. “This is my fucking trailer, Ricky! Why are you here?”
Ricky restashed his gun in his pants and shrugged sheepishly. “I dunno, man, I just…. I didn't know you would be back so fuckin’ fast.”
Julian stepped closer. His look had softened marginally. “What do you mean, Ricky? What are you up to?”
Ricky sighed heavily. “I sent Cory and Trevor to detracts you for a few hours, ‘cuz I don’t have a fuckin’ trailer for to cook in, and I needed one, so I borrowed yours, okay?”
Julian nodded, though he still looked perplexed as he studied his rum and coke for a moment. “Who’re you cooking for, Rick?” he asked gently.
“It was 'sposed to be for both of us,” Ricky mumbled. He felt so embarrassed he wanted to sink into the floor, especially now that Julian was looking at him so nice and calming, like he always did. He secretly really liked when Julian did that, especially since he was the only person who ever was patient and nice with him. Everyone else just got all fucked up and started yellin’ and screamin’…. Julian yelled at him sometimes too, but only when he really fucked up, and this… well, he didn’t consider this to be too bad of a fuckup. A screw up, maybe.
“You made us dinner?” Julian asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Bubbles helped.”
“Bubbles is here too?” Julian peeked around to look inside the kitchen, where Bubbles was still cowering down, poking his head out to watch them. “Come on out, Bubbles, it's okay. We put our guns away, it was just a big misunderstanding.”
Bubbles emerged from the kitchen, just as Cory and Trevor poked their heads in the door. “What about us, Julian?” Cory asked timidly.
“Yeah, can we come in now?” Trevor added.
Julian's drink clinked as he waved them in. “Sure, boys, come on in, you're letting all the cold inside.”
Ricky made sure to glare daggers at Cory and Trevor as they came in and stood at Julian's heels. “You stupid fucks couldn’t keep him away for one more hour?”
“We tried, Ricky,” Trevor whined, shutting up immediately when Julian held up a hand.
“They asked me to show them how to make potato vodka,” Julian said, shaking his head to himself. “And then when we were done with that, they wanted me to show ‘em how to break into a house.”
It dawned on Ricky why they had been scratching at the door. “But why were you trying to break in here, then?” he demanded.
“Ricky, it was just a demonstration. How'd you get in?”
Ricky shrugged. “Spare key.” He fished it out of his shirt pocket and tossed it at Julian, who caught it with his free hand.
“I knew I shouldn't’ve told you where that was,” he muttered. He sighed deeply. “Ricky, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble, man. You could have just asked me.”
Ricky felt himself go bright red. “I just… wasn't sure, y’know? I had to have a plan, I had to do it right.”
Julian didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied Ricky intently. Finally, he turned to Cory and Trevor, and pointed at the door. “Boys, go ahead and go back outside, alright? I gotta talk to Ricky alone.”
They obeyed, but Bubbles stepped closer and inserted himself into the conversation. “I think I deserve to know what the fuck’s goin’ on here, boys.”
Ricky dismissed him with a wave. “Come on, Bubs, you know what's goin’ on right now. Don’t make me say right in front of Julian that I wanna be gay with him.”
Julian almost dropped his glass, but it only fell a few inches before he just barely caught it. “Shit, Ricky….” he tried, but whatever he was about to say seemed to fade out with exhaustion.
“Well, boys, I think I'll leave you to it,” Bubbles piped up, as he scooted towards the door. “You obviously got a lot to talk about, so I guess I'll just take a rain check on dinner here and uh, be on my way.”
Ricky followed him to the porch. “Frig off, Bubbles, you weren't invited anyway, I just told you that you were so you would help me!” he yelled down at Bubbles as he shuffled off through the thin layer of snow that had been accumulating.
Julian leaned halfway out the door. “He doesn't mean that, Bubs, he's just upset and embarrassed, he'll apologize to you later!” he shouted after him, before turning back to Ricky. “Nice going, there, Rick,” he sneered, shoving at his shoulder.
Ricky wheeled on Julian as they retreated back to the warmth of the trailer. “Fuck you man, you don't even know what all I've gone through today! Been dealing with friggin’ idiots all day long, and they fucked everything up! I had a plan, and everything was s’posed to go right, and it was s’posed to be all romantical-like, and then we would bang, and….”
“Whoa, slow down, Ricky, fuck.” Julian pressed his drink hand to Ricky's shoulder. “Who said it was all fucked up? You just hit a little snag with Cory and Trevor. It happens.” At Ricky's timid, wounded animal look, he added, “I'm not upset, Ricky, really. I mean, I've kinda known for a while.”
Ricky lit a cigarette and blamed his shaky hands on the cold. “Fuck, man,” he breathed as he let out his first puff of smoke. “I wanted it to be perfect.”
To his wonder, Julian actually smiled. “It's the thought that counts, buddy,” he told him, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.
Ricky still wanted to die a little bit, but he also kinda felt all nice and warm, and he couldn’t help but think about Julian's hand on him, how truly decent it felt. “So,” he began hopefully, stomach full of butterflies, “Does this mean you're… interested?”
Julian ducked his head. “I gotta tell ya, Rick. I've had… feelings for a while too, yeah.” Ricky couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, and was happy when Julian returned it, if a little more sheepishly. “But for now,” Julian added, “I'm fucking hungry. And I heard something about a dinner?”
“Fuck!” Ricky had forgotten all about the food that had been left cooking on the stove. So that's what that burning smell was….
***
“You know, these chicken fingers are almost as good as the real expensive ones.”
“Better than the real cheap ones down at the gas station though.”
“Oh yeah. Those are for desperate times only.”
“I'm sorry I drank half the Mer-lott before you got here. I was really stressed out.”
“’S’okay Rick.”
“And I'm sorry I burnt the Beef Strokin’ Off.”
“It's okay, Rick, but you have got to stop calling it that.”
Ricky paused with a chicken finger almost to his mouth. He put it down for a moment and stared at the TV as the closing credits of Six Million Dollar Man played and the local news started up.
Julian must've noticed his hesitation. He slid his hand over to Ricky's knee and squeezed gently. “You alright there, bud?”
Ricky swallowed and sank further into the couch. “Yeah. I was just thinking….”
Julian nudged him with his knee. “You know I've warned you about that, Rick,” he teased.
Ricky frowned. “That’s just it. Do you really want to be with someone who's got no learnin’s, who says everything wrong, and fucks everything up all to shit, and….”
“Ricky, Ricky, Ricky,” Julian soothed, rubbing up and down Ricky's leg, which felt really nice, especially when he leaned close and Ricky could smell his cologne and feel his breath on his cheek.
“Look, Ricky, I do like you, even if you're not… the most educated guy around. I like the way you grow dope, really good dope, and you cook the best chicken fingers in the park, and….” He paused to think for a moment. “You're always there for me, man. You're my best friend. I love you, man.”
Ricky couldn’t help but feel all fluffed up like one of those peacoat cocksuckers. “I love you too, Julian,” he said softly, suddenly aware of how close they were.
“Hey, Ricky,” Julian whispered, and Ricky's eyes almost slid closed at the sound of his voice, low and a little hoarse.
“Hm?”
“You wanna go bang now?”
“Fuck, yeah.”
As far as Valentime’s Days went, Ricky couldn’t have planned one any better.
***
Until they got to the bedroom and saw two frozen faces staring in at them through the window. Julian took off his shoe and stomped towards them, brandishing it menacingly.
“Cory! Trevor! Go home! Go on! Git!”
Although, Ricky had to admit it was sorta hot, seeing him all take-charge like that. So, really, not a huge problem. All in all, still the best Valentime’s Day for never and ever.