We're joining Carson and Tom in
Talk Turkey again today. It's been a riot writing these two because their banter and chemistry is wonderful--it keeps me smiling long after it's gone on the page.
Talk Turkey
His mom had texted him a recipe for brine this morning. He'd had to look it up. Apparently some people dunked their turkey in a vat of salty water before cooking it. He laughed humorlessly as he thought about his tiny kitchen. The only place he'd be able to brine a turkey would be his rusty bathtub, where he'd be more likely to infuse it with tetanus than salt.
But she'd been so excited to share recipes with him and so confident that he'd be able to make Christmas dinner on his own. With pictures, which was why he was headed to Safeway even though he ought to be at home with a pair of flannel pajamas and dry socks.
His shoes squeaked against the linoleum as he made his way back to the turkeys. They were significantly more picked over than they had been last week, and Carson kicked himself for not going back right after he'd talked to Tom and getting one. All the small ones were gone, leaving Carson to choose between large and gargantuan.
He took out his phone and dialed Tom's direct number.
“Why hello, good sir,” Tom answered. “How are you on this lovely snowy night?”
Carson balked a little at the greeting. He held his phone away from his ear for a second to look at the screen. He'd called the number Tom had given him, but he hadn't expected Tom to know who he was. Which was silly, in retrospect, because he already knew the hotline had caller ID. Tom hadn't had to ask for his phone number last time. Duh.
“Carson?” Tom sounded unsure.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I'm at the grocery store and I'm a little overwhelmed by all my turkey choices,” Carson babbled. It was true, it just wasn't the reason he was so out of whack.
“Ah, I see. Well, how can I help?” Tom sounded more professional now, less at ease. Carson winced. Had he offended Tom by going straight to business?
“I put off getting my turkey...”
“And now only unsuitable ones are left,” Tom said knowingly. “Did you get the pamphlets I sent?”
He had. It had been the first piece of mail that wasn't a bill Carson had received at his new address, but admitting how excited he'd been to open the envelope seemed silly. “Yeah. How To Thaw was riveting.”
Tom snorted. “Personally I find Basting Basics to be the gem of that lot, but tastes differ.”
The hard pit that had been in Carson's stomach since the horrendous office Christmas party eased a bit at Tom's comfortable cajolery. Why couldn't he talk this easily with the people in his department at work?
“I'm saving Trussing Techniques for later. It sounded a bit racy,” he said, grinning when Tom started laughing.
“Oh God. Bedtime reading for sure,” he said, taking a gasping breath. “You make it sound like Fifty Shades of Grey for turkeys.”
“Could be,” Carson said, still smiling. “I've never read either, so how would I know?”
“Clearly you need to read both now. For science,” Tom said, still sounding a bit choked.
“I think it would be for literature, not for science. Besides, turkeys don't have hands. I don't see how they'd be able to tie a decent knot, let alone wield a paddle.”
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