Page 22 of Just A Little Joy

“Yeah, we went on a ’venture, and Papa stayed with the Daddies.”

“Papa. That’s right. Sorry, I used the wrong name.”

“He’s my Papa, not yours.” Jakob scowled at me. Well, as much as the perpetually happy Jakob could mean-mug a person.

“I wouldn’t dream of trying to steal him. He’s all yours, my friend,” I said with my hands up in surrender. “I don’t think he’d let himself be stolen though,” I added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Nope.” I’d guess that Jakob’s popped P and butt-shaking happy dance meant any remaining concerns he had about me trying to steal his Papa were laid to rest.

“Where are the rest of the boys? Did you get lost?”

“Silly! I know the way, but my friend doesn’t, and he needed the potty. He doesn’t have a Daddy, so I said I’d be a big boyand help ’im. Owen was playin’, and we gotta watch him.” Jakob rattled on, and his face turned somber. “Owen is just a baby. You gotta use gentle hands with ’im.”

“I bet you do a great job with that.”

“I do! Papa and Owen’s Da say I bestest.” Jakob paused, then added, “But they say Levi and Rory and Anders and Nico the bestest too. We all good boys.”

“No doubt, you’re all the best. I’m sure Owen appreciates you looking after him.”

“He do! He don’t talk, but he smiles, and we know he’s happy.”

“That’s a good system you got going.”

The crowd near the bar was raucous with laughter, and the din of it all made it difficult to make out what Jakob said next, but it somehow involved grabbing my hand and dragging me to the front of the hall near where the restrooms were. He proudly deposited me in front of one of the doors and shooed me closer.

“Go on. He need help.” Jakob gave an elaborate knock on the door, which I’m presuming was some kind of signal, before disappearing into the crowd again. The door latch turned green and cracked open. I turned my back as best I could and stepped inside.

“Uh, hey, Jakob said you needed help. I think he told me what for, but I couldn’t hear him. The bar area was noisy.”

“Ahhh…oh.”

I thought I recognized the timber of his voice and whirled around.

“Casey?”

“It’s you.” The reply was in the smallest, most dejected voice I’d ever heard from him. Whatever he needed, I was damn sure going to fix it.

“Casey, what do you need help with?”

I did my best to keep my voice calm and clear. Given the stricken look on his face, nerves were about to have him make a run for it. If I was calm enough, hopefully he’d forget to be nervous.

“My zipper’s stuck and won’t unstick.” He paused, wrinkled his forehead in confusion, and added, “Was I supposed to work tonight?”

“No, silly. Remember? You asked for the night off.”

“Then why’d you come find me?”

“I didn’t come here to find you, Casey. I came here on my own.”

“So you don’t wanna help me? That’s kind of mean. Why don’t you wanna help me? You mad cause I’m here?”

“No, no, no, you misunderstood—scratch that. I wasn’t very clear. I’m sorry.”

“What wasn’t clear?”

“Why I’m here. I think— I’m not even sure anymore what I was trying to say.”

“You were sayin’ you didn’t wanna help me.”