Tucker was in orange briefs and nothing else. Chad had his hands on them, about to take them down. Things were obviously about to progress. Herb Alpert was next on the mix tape that Chad had made: one they’d listened to dozens of times. Some of the 45’s were damaged over the years, some Roy had and some of Tucker’s, from the heat and cold in the van. But Chad had managed to replace the songs that had meant the most to them.
Just as “You see this guy…” started, a knock came on the door.
“I can’t answer the door with a hard-on,” Chad said.
“It hardly shows.” That was a lie.
“Who is it?” Chad asked.
“It’s Roy, Scooter. I was going to ask Tucker to lunch.”
“What do you think?” Chad asked it with his eyebrows and a twist of the head, not really in words.
Tucker shrugged.
“Hey, Animal,” Roy said, zeroing in on the pointed bulge in the crotch of Tucker’s underpants. “What you doing home, Red?” He stepped back and glanced at Chad, bare-chested, obviously aroused.