Foothills Pride Stories, Volume 1 Read online

  We were lying on his wonderful bed, both of us breathing like we’d run a marathon.

  “So what’s your real name, Alex?” I asked, rubbing my fingers through his chest hair.

  “Why? What does it matter, Jimmy?” he answered, his fingers running up and down my arm. I was lying on his bicep, slightly on my side. We were, for all intents and purposes, hugging.

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t like to have sex with strangers,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, well, we’re not strangers,” he said. “You’ve been coming into the bar for six months or a year, and we’ve talked most nights. So I’ve known you for like a half a year, which means we aren’t strangers.”

  He had a point. It was the only gay bar around here.

  “Okay, yeah, you’re right. But I’d like to know who you are,” I added with a snuggle.

  “I’m not a name,” he answered.

  “I know that. Anyone with my given names—King James Patterson—understands.” I turned my head and peered up at him. “So you’re another one of us, huh? Got a god-awful given name?”

  His smile was sad as he nodded. “Yeah, it’s a real motherfucker of a name.”

  “Ah.” I snuggled closer and hugged him. “It’s okay. I know exactly what you mean. King James, remember? That’s me. You’ve seen my ID.”

  We’d gotten up, then had breakfast, gotten washed up again, clothed this time, and now he was taking me back to my condo so I could get my car.

  Actually, I was rethinking the car. Motorcycles were definitely the way to go. I could see myself on some of the country roads around here, riding in the sunshine and sailing through a few hours of the day.

  I felt free and light as air. I felt alive after a year of feeling dead from overwork and a neglectful boyfriend. I’d like to say it was my companion, but at the time I could have sworn it was the bike.

  “Can I ask one more favor?” I slipped off the bike and handed him my helmet. He studied me, as if deciding on something huge. My hand moved over the helmet, almost as if I was caressing it.

  “Shoot,” he answered finally.

  I looked over my shoulder at the condo building, then down the parking lot where Alex’s car sat next to mine. I was scared about going into the condo. I didn’t know what waited for me there, but I just wanted to get as much of my stuff out as fast as I could without getting beat up.

  “Can you come up to the condo with me?” I asked on a breath. “I don’t want to go alone.”

  I didn’t add he was big and burly and would scare the bejesus out of Alex, which was definitely what I wanted.

  “Why?” he growled.

  “I want to get some stuff out of there,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t want A2 to know I was afraid of A1 or that I was scared shitless to go into the condo by myself. If A2 didn’t want to go with me, I’d call a couple of friends to accompany me.

  “Have you got somewhere else to stay?” A2 asked. Before I answered, he added, “Somewhere not your car?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got somewhere else,” I assured him. I didn’t tell him it was above the coffee shop I co-owned, where I was a barista, manager, and creative partner. I didn’t mention the room was mostly a storage area with a ratty old sofa, a table, and a couple of chairs. It was warm and would be shelter until I could figure out where I was going next.

  A2 stared at me with his you-better-not-be-shitting-me face. A look I could meet with honest eyes.

  “Okay. Afterward you can buy me lunch,” he said.

  Well, that brightened me right up. He would help me get stuff into my car, and we would have even more time together. Win-win.

  “Wonderful!” I chirped. “Follow me.”

  When I opened the door, the condo reeked of sex and stale beer, just what I needed to make my eyes water. I was not crying because Alex had stomped on my heart. I really wasn’t. Good riddance to bad rubbish, my grandmother always said, and I kept repeating her words in my head as I walked to my bedroom, the one I rarely slept in.

  Alex strolled out of the master bedroom buck naked, followed by the stranger he’d left me for last night, a stranger who was now buck naked too. They were both covered with dried spunk and wore sleepy, shit-eating grins.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Alex asked. “I brought Jerry here to celebrate your birthday with us.”

  I ignored him even though I saw A2 stop to stare at me. I didn’t do threesomes. Never had. Never would. Alex knew this. I didn’t want to talk about it. For one thing I might start crying, which wouldn’t help anyone, especially me. For another, I just wanted to get out of here with my things and put Alex so far behind me that he couldn’t see my ass when he looked forward.

  “Yo, Jimmy,” Alex said, standing in front of me and poking me in the chest. “You’re not mad or anything are you?”

  He looked over my shoulder where I knew A2 was standing.

  “You didn’t need to bring a bouncer with you. Everything’s cool,” he added, pushing me in the chest with his finger again.

  I moved to walk around him, but he shifted to stand in my way.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  A2 put his hands on my shoulders and moved me to one side. He adjusted his biker gloves and stood in Alex’s face, which came to his shoulders.

  Without any emotion, he grabbed Alex by the dick and balls.

  “Hey!” Alex yelped, trying to bat his hand away.

  “Jimmy’s moving out right now, so you’ll have to stand aside.”

  “Wait, he can’t move out. We have a lease,” Alex yelled. “And get your hands off my—ow! Damn! Stop! Stop!”

  Evidently, A2 was making a point.

  “Gather your stuff, Jimmy. We can come back later for the bigger shit.”

  I moved quickly into the bedroom and started putting the things I wanted to take on the bed.

  Alex was crying now and begging. “Stop. Please. Stop.”

  Behind me I could hear A2 say to someone, “Get a box and bring it in here.”

  “I don’t know where any boxes are,” a voice whined. “I just met Alex last night. I don’t know where anything is.”

  “I’ve got it,” I said to A2, really pleased to see him hurting Alex. A2 had been nicer to me in the little while I’d known him than Alex had been in the last six months.

  I went to the closet, reached up on the top shelf, and got one of the boxes I’d stored there. Quickly, I put the stuff on the bed in the box.

  Then I turned.

  “I have to go get my clothes,” I said softly to A2.

  “No way,” Alex shouted. “If you move out with this moron, you have to keep paying rent. I can’t pay—ow! Stop it.” He took a step back, and A2 pulled at the same time.

  Alex fell to his knees as A2 let go of his dick and balls.

  “Oh God. Oh God,” Alex moaned, cupping his hands over his junk.

  “Here, gimme the box,” A2 said.

  I handed it to him, and we walked to the doorway, leaving Alex on the floor keening.

  A2 headed to the front door as I slid past the stranger who had put on pants and shoes. He was busy sliding a shirt over his head. As I got to the doorway of the master bedroom, I heard A2 talking to him.

  “Don’t ever come into my bar again,” A2 barked.

  “But I didn’t do anything,” the guy protested.

  “You’ll never do anything in my bar, either,” A2 agreed. “I’ll have you thrown out.”

  “But it’s the only gay bar around here,” the guy whined.

  “Shoulda thought of that before you got mixed up in this,” A2 said.

  I could feel him walking up behind me.

  “You want me to do this part?” A2 asked softly in my ear. “You don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.”

  Alex was crying in the spare bedroom. I couldn’t tell if in pain or frustration.

  “You’d do that?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yup,” he answered, giving me a little pat on my shoul
der.

  He’d taken off his gloves, and the heat from his hand made me feel better.

  “I could use a little help in there,” I admitted.

  I opened the door wider, and the room reeked. Tears came to my eyes as I looked over the cheerful room. We’d wanted to have somewhere to make us happy before we went to work every day.

  Now I wanted to howl. I wasn’t happy.

  Again I felt A2’s hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t mind doing it all myself if you just tell me which closet I’m emptying,” he said even more softly. “I got your back here.”

  I turned around and hugged him.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much. I owe you big time.” I sniffled into his chest. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but God, I’m so grateful.”

  He hugged me back. In the background I heard the front door close, and Alex’s crying stopped. I could hear him snuffling up to us.

  “Take your damn stuff and go,” he said gruffly, as if this were his idea. “I don’t want to see you again.”

  A2 turned to him, and Alex scurried away into the bathroom.

  “I’ve got a couple of duffel bags in the closet,” I said, pointing across the room. “And my stuff’s in there,” I added, pointing to the chest next to us. “If you could get it into the duffels, I’ll clear out the closet.”

  I looked up at him and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” I added softly. “Thank you so much.”

  We worked quietly. I could hear Alex moving around in the bathroom, starting the shower, then getting into it. A2 packed quickly, taking stacks of underwear and T-shirts neatly and stacking them with sure movements, as if he’d packed a lot before.

  I still didn’t know much about the guy and continued to be shocked at how much nicer he was treating me than the person who’d said he loved me. With the remnants of the hangover, this all felt slightly surreal, as if I’d stepped into someone’s novel or movie or something. I wanted to wake up and have life go back to what it was, until it occurred to me that my life was shit then and was looking up with A2 in it now.

  While Alex was in the shower, I zipped into the bathroom and scooped up my stuff. I left the body gel and shampoo in the shower. I could buy more of those. I squirted all of the lube into the toilet and left the bottle floating in it, then I peed. And flushed twice. I’m not above petty revenge, it seems.

  I grabbed my favorite kitchen equipment—those I’d bought with my money. And A2 and I were out of there before Alex reappeared.

  My Jetta was stuffed by the time we got everything into it. Considering I didn’t think I had very much and we hadn’t even taken any of the few pieces of furniture I owned, I guess I hadn’t had an accurate picture of the unencumbered life I thought I lived.

  Oh, well.

  “So where to?” A2 asked, he and his bike next to my car window.

  “Um, I guess I’m going to put everything over the coffee shop while I figure out where I’m moving permanently,” I said. “Just follow me.”

  I drove to Penny’s Coffee Stop, the shop I co-owned with Felicity, my friend from high school. She liked math and all things business. I liked decorating, cooking, and coming up with new coffee and tea drinks, so we’re a match made in heaven.

  Penny’s was located in an indoor mall, in a corner alcove with an upscale clothing store on one side and a killer shoe and purse store on the other. It’s a two-story shop, with our offices upstairs and enough storage space to open a ballroom if we wanted. Our inventory went in and out so fast most stuff didn’t get past the back door and kitchen area, so upstairs was relatively empty.

  When I drove up to the loading dock, Felicity shot outside almost before I stopped.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a smacking kiss on the lips.

  “So how was it, birthday boy? Did you get the shock of your life?” she asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Huh? How was what?” I asked as A2 roared up behind me and turned off his bike.

  She looked over at him, her eyes getting really wide.

  “Oh, my!” she said, then whispered in my ear, “Where did you pick up this present?”

  Then she looked at the car.

  She backed away from me as she stared at my shit.

  “What the fuck, Jimmy? Why did you move out?”

  “Uh, can we carry some of the stuff inside while I tell you?” I asked.

  “He didn’t take you to San Fran to the play and the really cool gay bar, huh?” she asked.

  “You mean Alex? No.” I loaded my arms, then nodded at the car.

  “And who’s this?” she asked, grabbing a couple of boxes. “Do I know you?”

  “Hi, I’m the bartender down at Stonewall,” A2 introduced himself.

  I wondered if this was what he told everyone instead of giving them a name or if he was just trying to provoke me.

  Whatever, it was working.

  “So what’s your name?” she challenged.

  He looked at her, smiled—well, grinned actually—and answered, “Does it matter?”

  He then bent into the trunk of the car and grabbed the heaviest stuff.

  Well, I couldn’t just let him and Felicity stand there, so I juggled my load and held the door for them. A2 followed Felicity in and up the stairs.

  “Where do you want this?” Felicity asked, looking around the mostly empty space.

  “I guess over there, next to the old couch,” I answered.

  I was carrying a stack of the hanging clothes, so I laid them down on the couch, making a mental list. I needed a clothes rack. There was a gifty, upscale housewares place a few stores down that was open until nine, so I’d stop there late this afternoon or evening. Whenever I got back from eating with A2.

  Felicity and I talked as we walked up and down the stairs carrying more stuff. Dan and Brad were working the coffee shop, so Felicity wasn’t really needed. She just liked to hang around the shop, chatting with the people who stopped by and generally basking in the idea of being a business owner.

  We’d both worked a lot of shitty jobs for even shittier people before we saved the money for the shop, so we didn’t hide our pride in being grown-up, small business owners. We were even about to open a second shop over by the clump of eateries and bars in Old Town, where Stonewall was located. We’d visited the space a couple of times and were ready to put a bid in for it.

  The plan was I’d be the manager there, and Felicity would be the manager here. Penny’s Too on Main Street would be the gay guy’s go-to place after Stonewall closed and the safe place for weekend breakfast and all-day coffee in a town with a lot of know-nothing rednecks. The customers who stopped by Penny’s here at the mall said they’d support another place near the old-line downtown restaurants and bars, so we thought we’d be good. Felicity had run some numbers and said we’d be fine. More than anything I trusted Felicity.

  That’s why I was surprised about her San Francisco comment.

  “What a shit,” she said, referring to Alex. “We all gave him money to take you to San Fran to go to the show you wanted to see, and take you out for dinner, and then spend the night there.”

  I was stunned.

  Behind me, A2 muttered, “Wish I’d known that when we were at the condo.”

  “Why? What would you have done?” Felicity asked.

  “Gotten in his face. Gotten it all straightened out,” he answered her, looking fierce and protective and adorable.

  “Good for you,” she said, smiling at him as if he’d done something courageous. “Not enough people take care of Jimmy.”

  “What? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Thank you very much,” I squeaked.

  A2 gave me the eye and laughed sourly. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been watching. But it didn’t happen.”

  Suddenly Felicity and A2 were solid friends, and I was watching them bond over me.

  We got everything moved into the space, then Felicity was called away on a minor emergency when s
ome kid accidentally flushed his blankie down one of the toilets.

  “So, food?” I asked A2, still stunned at how someone with no name had quickly won over Felicity. She was usually suspicious of the men I introduced her to.

  He nodded at the mention of food.

  “Take the bike?” he asked.

  Oh, yeah!

  I TOOK him to The Raven’s Nest, a fairly new restaurant with a broad menu. I figured I could get one of their salads and a broiled lamb chop while he could chow down on something more substantial. He didn’t disappoint me.

  “Didn’t know you owned Penny’s,” he said, slicing into thick semicooked steak.

  “Co-own,” I corrected him.

  “Right. Didn’t know that either. Thought you were just planning to open a place.”

  “Oh, you mean the second coffee shop.”

  “An entrepreneur, huh?”

  “Whatever.” I waved away business talk. I was more interested in freedom.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “How hard is it to learn to ride a motorcycle?”

  “Why?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “I want to get one.”

  “That all you want in life?” he asked with a grin.

  “No, I also want to know what your name is,” I said, meeting his grin and adding a little tilt to my head.

  “Okay. How’s this for a deal?” He put down his knife and fork and leaned into the table, stabbing me with his eyes. “I’ll give you a week to guess my name. Seven chances. Every day you can ask a few questions, then come up with what you think my name is. If you’re right, I’ll buy the best bike for you and teach you how to ride it.”

  “And if I’m wrong?”

  “You owe me a kiss.” He leaned back in satisfaction.

  “A kiss? One measly kiss?”

  “Oh, I don’t want the measly ones. I mean a real, God of Love kiss. Something to set my ass back a couple a notches.”

  Now I really laughed. Right. Me, giving him a humdinger of a kiss? Right. Who were we kidding? Oh, well. Didn’t matter because I was going to accept his challenge.

  “Okay, you’re on.” I cocked my head at him and grinned. “But what do I call you in the meantime?”