by Lynn Lorenz
“May I speak with the manager?” Edward kept his lips tight—he’d dealt with people like this ever since he’d come out.
The guy from the front desk stepped up. “Let me have that, Jimmy.” He took the card from the man, wiped it clean and ran it through the machine. “Better get back to work.”
Jimmy returned to the garage but stopped in the doorway and turned back. “I swear. Ever since those two faggots took up residence here, the place is swarming with them. Spring Lake is going to be the next San Fran-fucking-cisco, if you ask me.”
How do three gay men make a swarm? Is that like a herd of elephants or a school of fish? Shouldn’t it be something like a quorum of queers or a gaggle of gays?
The young man rolled his eyes and held out the receipt and the credit card. Edward signed them, handed him the yellow copy and held out his hand, palm up. “My keys?”
“In the car. Jimmy’ll bring it out for you.”
Edward nodded and left the office. Jimmy gunned the motor and backed out of the closest bay, cut the wheel hard and nearly hit Edward as he came to a brake-squealing stop.
Curbing his anger, Edward set his face to neutral and walked around to the driver’s side, doing his best ‘manly’ walk. He could do butch if he had to.
Jimmy got out and held the door open, as if being polite, but Edward knew better. People like this man wore thin veils of civility over the senseless hatred that boiled underneath and when that hatred erupted, someone usually got hurt. Or killed.
Edward got in and Jimmy shut it. Still holding on to the frame, he leaned over, his cigarette-laced breath puffing against the side of Edward’s face as he growled, “I hope you don’t plan on hanging around here for long, Mr. I-I-I. This is a God-fearing town and we don’t need any more of you faggots settling here, for damn sure.”
Edward knew arguing or even trying to reason with people like Jimmy was a waste of time and energy. Despite the fear and anger warring inside him, he remained silent, which seemed to piss off the asshole even more.
“Just keep your hands to yourself, faggot. We catch you with any of our boys, we’ll hang you by your dick from the nearest tree.”
Looking straight ahead, Edward put the car into gear and hit the gas. The mechanic jumped back, cursed at him and gave him the finger. Heart pounding, Edward pulled out of the drive and into the street without a clue as to where he was going. All he could think about was to get as far away from the garage as possible.
Once free, Edward slowed down, and the tension in his shoulders eased. He could see the billboard… Spring Lake: The next San Francisco. He laughed. Not without the hills, the marina and the Castro District.
How paranoid could some God-fearing people be? Did they really think he was going to start trolling outside the junior high school, enticing young boys into wickedness, sin, and manis and pedis with candy and video games?
Hell and damnation. He was a homosexual, not a pedophile. They were not synonymous. The thought of touching a child was as abhorrent to him as it would be to anyone else.
He drove a few more blocks, spotted a coffee shop and pulled in to their drive-through. After he ordered a latte, he got out the map and studied it as he waited. He was on the main street and from there he traced the route to his grandmother’s house.
He paid, got his drink and pulled out.
“Over the river and through the snow, to grandmother’s house we go,” he sang, off-key, then sighed and looked at the empty seat beside him.
It wasn’t the same without Winston.
Chapter Five
After seeing to his wounds, Jack rolled back to his desk. His foot bumped the dog. He pushed back and looked down. The animal was dead asleep, the tip of his long tongue sticking out of his mouth between his front teeth as if giving Jack a permanent raspberry.
This is ridiculous. How on earth did I get stuck babysitting a dog?
Right. He’d promised Edward. No. He would not refer to Edward as Edward. Mr. Beauregard or Beauregard, but not Edward.
His stomach rumbled. His head pounded and his ankle ached. Jack popped two more painkillers and dry-swallowed them.
Kristen knocked, opened the door and stuck her head in. “Chief?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve got the meeting with the mayor in thirty minutes, remember?”
Jack sighed and stood. “I don’t suppose you’d go in my place?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Right. Best be going. Maybe I can grab a burger on the way there.” He grabbed his hat and came around the desk to take the file Kristen held out to him.
Behind him, he heard the patter of nails on linoleum. Winston, dragging his leash, trotted up to him and sat.
“Oh no. I’ve got a meeting. You have to stay here.” Jack shook his head.
Woof.
“I don’t care, you’re not coming.”
“Chief? When you talk to him, does he answer you?” Kristen’s eyes were all scrunched up as she fought to keep her lips straight.
“No, of course he doesn’t talk.” Now Edward—Beauregard—had him doing it. Kristen stepped out of the office. Jack followed and closed the door before the dog could get out.
Woof. Woof. Woof.
Kristen raised her eyebrows and looked at the door, then at Jack. “Oh no, is right. I’m not sitting here all afternoon listening to that dog bark. And I’m not cleaning up any doggy messes.”
“But I can’t take him with me to see the mayor.”
Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.
“Why not? You said you’d watch him, didn’t you?” Kristen had her hands on her hips.
“Yes, but…”
Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.
“Take him, or I’m taking the day off. With pay.” She raised her voice to be heard over the barking as she went for her purse behind her desk.
“No, wait!” He held up his hands in submission. “I’ll take him.” Jack went to the door, opened it and out trotted Winston. Jack bent down, snatched up his leash and frowned at the animal. “Okay, Winston. Best behavior, right?”
Woof.
Jack hoped that meant ‘yes’ in dog talk, not ‘just wait until I bite you again.’ He pulled on the leash and headed down the hall to the parking lot. Winston dragged him straight to his car.
Hell, maybe the dog was smarter than he looked, because he sure was one ugly dog. His nose was smashed in, his jowls hung and he snorted when he breathed. A small patch of light brown covered one eye, but other than that, the dog was white. And that tail. A dog should have a proper tail.
Jack opened the back door, but the dog just sat there. “You got in before. In, Winston.” Jack snapped his fingers and jerked on the leash, but the dog wouldn’t budge. He could pick the animal up, but that was getting closer than he was prepared to be. Once bitten, twice shy.
Winston stood and pulled him around the car. Christ, the dog is strong. They reached the passenger side and the dog sat at the front door.
“Oh, no. You are not sitting in the front seat with me.” Jack folded his arms across his chest, determined to make a stand, but a glance at his watch told him he was just wasting precious time.
With a growl of his own, Jack opened the door. Winston jumped in and settled into the seat. Jack shut the door, went around the car and got in. He exited the lot and headed toward city hall. There was a burger fast-food place on the way there and fifteen minutes left to get it, eat it and be in the mayor’s office.
He stopped at the order board. “One burger, all the way, and a coffee, black.”
Woof.
Jack looked at Winston. “Ed—” Shit. He gave up. “Edward said no table scraps. You’re on a diet.”
Woof.
“Add a burger, plain.” Jack rubbed his temple. This took the cake. Ordering fast food for a dog.
“Will that be all?”
“That’s it.”
“Five oh three. Pull to the first window to pay.”
Jack drove
forward, paid the young lady, got his receipt, then moved up to the second window for the food. Winston leaned across Jack’s body, sniffing the air. Then he put his paws on Jack’s leg and strained toward the window. Christ, even though the dog was small, he weighed a ton.
“Get off me, Winston,” Jack growled and pushed him back with his elbow.
The manager of the restaurant grinned at him. “Cute dog, Chief. Is he new on the force?”
“No,” Jack replied. He took the bag and the coffee, nodded and drove away. He set the coffee in the holder. “Now, sit there and be good.” He took a burger out of the bag, opened the paper and put it on the seat next to the dog. The animal lay down and began eating.
Jack opened his sandwich and ate it in about four bites, washing the last bite down with a sip of coffee. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d smelled the food. They pulled up to city hall and he parked, then watched Winston lick the paper wrapper spotless, slobbering all over the seat.
Jack had two minutes left.
Chapter Six
Edward pulled up outside a small Craftsman cottage and parked. It was white, with a lovely garden that bordered the porch on either side. He checked the address with the one stenciled on the top step of the porch and got out.
His stomach danced and he tried to shake it off, but it’d been a long time since he’d seen his grandmother. He should have changed his shirt, but it was too late now. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her?
He walked down the brick path to the wooden steps and up to the front door. After pushing the bell, he gave his bangs a final brush with his fingers then stepped back.
A few moments later, a vaguely familiar woman with short gray hair opened the door. “Edward! I’d recognize you anywhere!” She gave him a quick hug.
Her warm smile helped to settle his stomach and he nodded. “Meemaw?” He slipped into the name he’d called her as a child.
“It’s been a long time. Come in.” She stepped back and pulled his arm.
Edward stepped into the living room and the aroma of just-baked cookies filled his nose. “Oatmeal raisin?”
“That used to be your favorite, if I remember.” She led him to the couch. On the coffee table was a plate filled with cookies.
“They still are,” he replied as he reached for one and took a bite, unable to stop himself. It was a little piece of heaven. “Mmm. Is that just a hint of ginger?”
“Why, yes, it is. Most people don’t recognize it.” She sat down and patted the cushion next to her.
“I have a sensitive palate,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie as he sat. “These are wonderful. Just like I remember them.” It was funny, but until he’d taken a bite, he’d completely forgotten that she’d made those cookies for him whenever he’d visited her with his parents.
“Glad you still like them. Now, Edward. What brings you to Spring Lake?” She sat back and watched him with sharp brown eyes.
Unsure whether he should spill the beans about his mission, he shrugged and went with his second reason for visiting. “I needed to get away, Meemaw. Things in Atlanta…well, I needed a change.”
“Edward. Are you in trouble with the law in Atlanta too?” Her smile reached her eyes and he felt she’d love him even if he had been a wanted man. For Edward, that was a rare thing.
“No. Nothing like that.” He sighed. “It’s more along the line of an affair gone bad.”
“Ohh.” She nodded. “Had your heart broken?” She reached out and put a comforting hand on his leg.
“Worse. I was dumped in the middle of the biggest social event of the year. Right in front of everyone,” he whispered. The mortification of it still hung on him like cheap knock-off cologne.
She nodded again. “That must have been awful.”
“You have no idea.” He rolled his eyes. “I just couldn’t stand the phone calls from so-called friends pretending to be sympathetic but just wanting to hear all the sordid details.”
“The ‘I told you so’s’?” she added.
“Yes. But no one ever told me.” He shook his head and took another cookie.
“You wouldn’t have listened, would you?”
He stared at her, cookie in his mouth—then he bit it, chewed and swallowed. “No, I don’t think I would have.”
“You were in love.”
“At least I thought I was. I thought he—” Edward froze and looked up at his grandmother. Hell and damnation, he’d just outed himself to her.
“You thought he loved you, right?” She smiled at him, her eyes holding only love and acceptance, not a hint of disgust or judgement.
“Yes.” He hung his head, so ashamed that he’d been played for a fool. Again. “I don’t seem to pick the right men,” he confessed.
“I was like that. Always the wrong man.” She leaned closer to tell her secret. “For me, it was bad boys.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh my Lord, I did love bad boys. High school dropouts. Carnie workers. Rodeo cowboys. The kind of man that would make your head spin with danger and excitement, get you in nothing but trouble and then be gone the next week.” She laughed.
Edward sat up. “Me too, Meemaw. Bad boys.” He rolled his eyes. “Guess it runs in the family.” He loved finding there was more in common between them than blood.
She chuckled, picked up a cookie and took a bite. “These are good. Now, don’t you worry, child, you stay here as long as you need to. I’ve got the guest room all ready.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a key. “Here’s the key to the house. You come and go as you please. No curfew.” She winked.
“Meemaw!” Edward put his hand to his mouth in pretend shock. “You’re joking, right? I’m gay—you do realize that?” He took the key and slipped it onto his key ring.
“So?”
“There are no gays in Hooterville.”
“Sure there are. Rush Weston and his partner, I think you call it? They live here.”
“That must be the cop I met, Brian Russell.”
“That’s him. Such a nice man. I was so glad to see Rush finally find someone who makes him happy. Besides them, there’s no telling who’s hiding what around here. I have a few ideas of my own about that list, but they’d scandalize the town.” She laughed and slapped her leg.
Edward sat back and observed his grandmother. His family had only visited occasionally. He’d been a teen the last time he’d seen her, and not very interested in spending time with her, so wrapped up in his own set of worries, his fights with his dad and with the dreaded realization that he liked boys, not girls.
She hadn’t attended the funeral, either.
She’d certainly surprised him. He’d never expected to be able to sit with his grandmother and talk to her about being gay. Even his mother never spoke so openly, only with vague references to his ‘friends’ and ‘dates’. And his father? When pigs fly.
“Wow. You blow me away, Meemaw.” He threw his arms around her, they hugged and he was glad that her grip on him was just as strong as his on her. “Thank you.” Tears burned his eyes. Right now, he needed someone to understand him, not to judge or condemn him or to call him a gullible fool.
She gave him a final pat on the shoulder. “Now. Tell me all about your run-in with the local law.”
Edward sat back, picked up another cookie and told her all about meeting Jack.
* * * *
Jack looked at the dog and faced his next problem. If he left the dog in the car, it would be just his luck that someone would report it.
Dog Left In Police Chief’s Car To Die
Peta Asks For Chief’s Resignation
Headlines like those he couldn’t afford, not if he wanted to keep his job, and he’d worked too damn hard to blow it now over some rich guy’s mutt.
He grabbed the leash. “Come on, Winston. You’re with me.” He got out and Winston followed. As he walked up the sidewalk to the main doors, Winston stopped, lifted a stubby back leg and generously
watered the flowers that lined the paved brick walk. A passing woman glared at Jack and the dog, telling him with narrowed eyes and a frown that she didn’t approve of their pit stop.
Winston finished, then grinned up at her as he happily scraped his back legs on the grass, sending clods flying. She turned the full force of her glare on Jack and heat rose in his cheeks. Shit. Damn dog.
“Come, Winston.” Jack yanked on the lead and Winston waddled after him. At the double door to the building, Jack hesitated.
Dog Bites Mayor
Chief of Police Fired
Could the headline be worse? Either way, he was screwed. If he ever got his hands on Edward P. Beauregard the Third, for putting him in this mess, he’d gladly do life.
Jack would just make sure the dog didn’t get too close to His Honor, that’s all.
“I have a meeting with the mayor,” Jack informed the secretary. She peered over her glasses, down her long, narrow nose at the dog. Her eyebrows rose.
“I have you down, but your friend isn’t listed.” Her pursed lips twisted in a smile. “I’ll tell the mayor you’re here.” She picked up the phone, pressed a button and spoke. “Chief Whittaker and his friend are here to see you.”
Jack rolled his eyes and she winked at him. “I don’t know, sir.” She glanced up at Jack. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“Winston.”
“Winston, sir.” A pause as she smiled at the dog. “Yes, just like Churchill. Yes, sir.” She put the phone down. “You can go in.”
Jack nodded to her and pushed through the mahogany door with the seal of the city on it.
His longtime friend, William Lansing, sat behind a large cherry desk. A huge map of the city covered the wall behind him. He glanced up from his paperwork then rose.
“Hello, Bill.”
“Hello, Jack. Who’s your friend?” Bill Lansing pointed to the dog as he came around the desk and shook Jack’s hand. “New recruit? Is he a new item in your budget?”
“No. He’s impounded.”
