by Lynn Lorenz
“Oh.” Sammi didn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “I was sort of hoping…”
“Mmm?” Edward made an encouraging noise.
“Well, I’ve never been to a spa before and I was hoping I could visit yours.”
“Of course, honey! I’ll book you in for the works!” Sammi could hear typing in the background.
“What’s ‘the works’ and how much does it cost?” He counted his available funds in his mind. With the present he’d bought Mitchell and the cookie costs, he was just skating by until his next meager check.
“Start with a facial. Manicure with paraffin. Pedicure with hot rocks and paraffin. And finish with an hour massage, done by me personally…” Keys typed again.
“Wow. That sounds expensive.” No way could he afford all that.
“For you…” Edward hummed, typed a bit more, then exhaled. “I’m sorry to say…”
Sammi held his breath. Maybe he could just get the pedicure.
“Merry Christmas!” Edward shouted.
“What?”
“This is my gift to you. I’ve been racking my brain thinking of something for you.” He lowered his voice. “I know we agreed not to do presents, but I wanted to do something special for you.”
“For me?” Sammi blinked, then held out the cell phone to stare at it. He put it back to his ear. “I…can’t… It’s all too wonderful.” Tears filled his eyes. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, except when Mitchell rescued me and Brian found my grandmother.”
“Now, don’t get all…sentimental over it. I think you’re worth it. You and me, we’re kind of the odd men out in all this macho-man thing going on here, you know.”
Sammi did know. He and Edward were high on the femme side of the gay spectrum, while the other men were on the pass-for-straight side.
Sammi snatched up a paper napkin and wiped his eyes with it. “Thanks.” Then he frowned. “I don’t have anything that nice for you. I made everyone the same thing—cookies.”
“I love-love-love cookies!!” Edward sounded happy, but Sammi wasn’t sure. He wished he could be there, in person, to get a glimpse into Edward’s mind and see the truth. He’d just have to trust him.
“Wonderful! I can’t wait. I’ll email you the list tonight.” Sammi tossed the damp napkin in the trash. Excitement bubbled up through him just thinking of planning the menu. But something popped into his head and he decided to go for it.
Sammi cleared his throat. “Uh, Edward. We’re friends, right?”
“Of course we are, honey.”
“Can I ask you something…personal?” Sammi swallowed down a lump in his throat.
“Sure. Anything. You know I’ll only judge you a little bit.” A pause. “Just kidding, of course I won’t judge you. You’re safe with me.”
Sammi sighed. “Okay. Well, I’ve been doing some…research on the internet…just to answer some questions about the thoughts I’ve been having.”
“Is this about you and Mitchell? Is everything okay between you two?”
“Yes. It’s about Mitchell and me. Our relationship is great, you know, but you know my history, right?” Sammi didn’t know how much Mitchell had told him about his former life.
“I know you were a sex slave because of your power, and you were in the foster system most of your life.”
“Okay. Well, I asked Mitchell to be my daddy.” Sammi exhaled. That was out, at least. “I want to be his boy.”
“That makes sense, honey. I get that.” Edward’s calm reply eased Sammi’s mind. “What did he say?”
“He wants me to be his boy, but he’s really worried about what it means. He says he doesn’t want to own me, like a slave. He wants to take care of me, especially with sex.”
“So, that sounds good. Isn’t that what you want?”
“It is. I just don’t think he’s completely…honest. About the worry that I might be falling back into ‘slave’ mode, even if he doesn’t say so.” Sammi chewed on his bottom lip.
“I get that, sugar. You’re worried he’s thinking deep down you wanted to be a slave, is that it?”
“Yeah. But I don’t, it’s not the same thing at all. From what I can see from the research I did, a daddy-boy relationship isn’t as demanding or as controlling as a slave-master. I don’t ever want to be anyone’s slave.” Sammi shook his head.
“But can’t you just mind-tell him that?”
“I’ve tried. And I know he knows I love him, so so much. But I feel he’s tiptoeing around it. I want him to call me his boy, to tell me what to do when we’re together in bed, and for the most part, he does, but…”
“You’re thinking he’s got doubts.” Edward exhaled. “Sammi, sugar, I think this is going to just take time for both of you. He wants the same thing as you—to be closer and to define your relationship. That’s not a bad thing. But it can’t happen overnight.”
“So, you think I should relax and give it time?”
“Yes. Let it grow organically.”
“Organically?” Edward was using words he wasn’t sure he knew.
“Naturally. Don’t try to force it. Just call him what you want, when you feel it’s right, and he’ll catch on. You want to be his submissive, right?”
“Yes, that’s it. I want to make him happy, to please him. Pleasing him makes me happy.”
“Exactly.”
Sammi grinned. “Can I ask a personal question?”
“Shoot. I’m an open book with no filter.”
“Is that what you and Jack have? He’s so…alpha. And you’re so…”
“He likes to call me a brat. I’m submissive, but with attitude.” Edward laughed. “I give him a hard time, push his buttons, get the last word. It drives him crazy…crazy wild!”
“Oh. I think I get it.” He’d only been around Jack and Edward when they’d first gotten together and had no idea what their relationship was like. “It’s not so…submissive?”
“No, it’s not. Not that we don’t have our moments of dom-ness and sub-ness. He’s totally in control, but I sort of top from the bottom. Look, he fucks me and I love it. But I let him dominate me, so I really have all the power. He can’t force me to have sex and I can’t force him, but I might push his buttons, or tease him, or sass him, to get him hot and bothered, but ultimately, he’s got to feel in control.”
“I got it. With Mitchell and me, it’s more we both want to please each other, but with none of the attitude. I’m just not like that and Mitchell’s overly careful with my feelings, you know?”
“I think y’all are a perfect match. Just like Jack and me. We’re made for each other—our…let’s call them needs are a tight fit.” Edward laughed. “It’s a cliché, but he completes me.”
Sammi laughed along. “Mitchell completes me.”
“Is that everything you wanted to talk about, honey? Did I help?”
He nodded, even though Edward couldn’t see him. “It is. You’ve been a great help. I’m so glad you’re my friend. Haven’t got many of them, so you, Jack, Brian and Rush, you guys mean a lot to me.”
“Good. I feel the same way. Other than a few of the ladies at the shop, I really don’t know many people here as friends. There’s plenty I’m acquainted with, of course. But true friends? Just all y’all.” Edward paused. “I mean it. If you need to talk more, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Edward. I mean that. I’ll see you tomorrow. Watch for my email.”
“I will. Bye, sugar.” Edward hung up.
Sammi disconnected, put down the phone then did a dance around the dining table. Edward was awesome and he couldn’t believe how comfortable he felt sharing with him. He fell into a chair, flipped open his laptop and began searching for recipes.
This Christmas with his friends would be the best ever!
* * * *
Phillip rolled over on the bed and stared at the large duffel bag lying on the bench of the trailer. Not so much after all. He’d thrown out a bunch of crap, keeping
only what he decided was necessary. He left the shirts with the shop name and his name on the pocket. He’d never wear them again, but he kept the pants. The duffel held mostly clothes, shoes, jackets, a few photos, his toiletries, his cowboy hat and boots, and a few odds and ends. He’d never picked up many extraneous belongings. As a kid, he was used to traveling light, moving from town to town whenever their welcome ran out or folks got suspicious. As an adult, he’d never broken the habit.
Everything else in the trailer stayed. Phillip wasn’t the type to trash a place. He respected the trailer—it’d been his home for nearly a year. And despite being thrown out, he’d had a roof over his head and a job to be thankful for.
He’d already been to the bank, cashed his payroll check and put half in his wallet, and hidden the rest in his boots. Nothing left to do but wait.
In a little while, Flynn would show up, take his key, and Phillip would have to leave. He had no idea where to go. With money in his pocket, he could spend a few days at a motel before deciding where to go next. Most likely, farther on down the interstate, maybe all the way to Houston.
Right now, he had to make a call. Brian was supposed to pick him up tomorrow at six to go out to his ranch. He’d have to cancel on that. He mourned the chance of making friends, seeing the ranch, getting close to his dream of a life spent riding the range.
He picked up Brian’s card off the side table, which was nothing more than a ledge sticking out enough to put an alarm clock and a small lamp on. He punched in the numbers and listened to it ring.
“Officer Russell here.” Brian’s voice came over loud and clear. All business.
“Hey, it’s Phillip Mott. Remember me?”
“Of course. What’s up? Did you want to change the time to pick you up?”
Phillip scratched his head. He hated this. “Look, I can’t come. Something’s come up.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” He paused. “You sound down. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled. More than anything, he’d wanted to go to visit the ranch. Horses. Cattle. The life he’d always dreamed of having.
“Doesn’t sound okay. Look, I know I’m pushing but can you tell me what happened? I promise not to judge or meddle.”
“Christ.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I got fired. I’m out of a job and the trailer as of five p.m. today.”
“What the hell?” Brian’s voice rose. “What happened?”
“Crowder showed up at the garage yesterday. Told everyone in earshot I was a fag. The manager fired me. Said he was sorry, but he couldn’t take the chance in keeping me on and having Joe Smith find out he’d hired a queer.” Phillip sighed. “So, I can’t come to the ranch for the holiday. I got to leave town.”
“Leave town? How come?”
“Well, once the news gets around, and it will, because that asshole Jimmy was standing right there, listening and gloating, and just waiting to get out of there and spread it from one end of this town to another. No one’s going to want me to work for them or rent to me.” Phillip slapped his thigh and sat up. Man, I want a drink.
Brian chucked. “Look, it’s not that bad. Spring Lake has changed over the last year or so. Rush came out, I moved in with him. So, gay rancher and a gay cop. Also, my chief of police, Jack Whittaker, is gay and living with Edward Beauregard, the gayest man in town, if you get my drift. He owns that day spa. So, frankly, you being gay isn’t the most earth-shattering thing around here.”
“What?” Phillip stood and got a glass of water from the tap. He drank it down in one long gulp. “You sayin’ it’s no big deal?”
“Well, a lot of folks around here just don’t care that much and those that do, well, we just ignore them. Jack and Edward go to the Methodist church every Sunday, for Christ’s sake.” He laughed. “Look, why don’t I come get you tonight and you can bed down at the ranch until you figure out what you want to do.”
“Stay at the ranch?” Oh my God! Stay on a real working ranch? Phillip did a quick spin in the middle of the trailer. Just as he ended his twirl, a knock sounded on the door. He’d forgotten about Flynn.
“Look, sounds good. I’ll wait for you at the diner, okay? See you at six?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Brian.” He hung up, stuffed his phone in his pocket and grabbed his duffel bag. “Just a minute,” he called out. He felt lighter than he had in ages. Maybe this wasn’t the end of the world.
Phillip exited the trailer with his bag slung over his shoulder. He stepped down and handed Flynn the key. “All done. Want to inspect it? I’ll wait.”
“Sure.” Flynn kicked the deck with his shoe. “Sorry about this.” He stepped up and went inside. After about five minutes he came out, locked the door and pocketed the key. “Everything looks fine.”
Phillip nodded. “Good.” There wasn’t much more to say, and what Phillip did want to say wouldn’t do anyone any good. He turned away and left Flynn standing there.
He reached the corner of the building and Estaban stepped out. “Hey, Phil. Where you are going?” His dark eyebrows knitted together in a tight row.
Phillip’s heart pounded as he dropped his bag and leaned against the building, trying to act cool. “Estaban. Hi.” He ran his hand through his hair. This was the last person he wanted to see him like this. He swallowed down some pride. Tasted the same as usual.
“It was wrong, you being fired. I told that to Flynn.” He leaned next to Phillip, maybe a little too close, but Phillip didn’t mind. “The guy’s a dickless wonder. Phil, are you okay? Got a place to go?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m meeting a friend in a few and he’s letting me stay with him and his…partner. Just until I get on my feet, find another job.”
“You’re staying in town, right?” Estaban gave him a gentle shoulder bump.
“Yeah. I’m staying for now. If nothing turns up after the holidays, I’ll probably move on. Maybe to Houston.” Phillip shrugged.
Estaban pulled out his phone. “Give me your number. Maybe we can get together, you know. Shoot the bull.” Phillip rattled off his number and Estaban typed it in. Then he called Phillip. “Now you got my number. If you need anything, anything at all, call me, Phil. I mean it.” Estaban stared deep into Phillip’s eyes. For a moment, all Phillip wanted to do was lean in and surrender, but Estaban straightened and pushed off the wall.
“Sure. I’ll call. I’ll see you, okay?” Phillip tore himself away when he wanted to just stand there and gaze at Estaban. He gave him a smile and limped off. Damn, he wished he’d had the balls to do something, but he’d already had the shit stomped outta him once this week. To make a move and lose Estaban’s friendship would just about kill him.
Down Main Street was the diner where Brian would meet him. Maybe a day or two in the country would clear his head. He could take time to think about his next steps, instead of running from one place to the next with no clear game plan.
He hurried toward the restaurant. Maybe he could find his childhood dream job, riding a horse and working on a ranch.
It had been wishful thinking, but what the hell. Sometimes dreams come true, right?
Beggars can’t be choosers, his mother’s voice whispered in his head.
Phillip slowed down, his knee starting to hurt from pushing it too hard. He spotted the sign for the diner four blocks away. Plenty of time to take it easy and get there before six.
“Hey, fag!” Phillip froze at the sound of Jimmy’s voice. Fuck. Not this asshole.
Chapter Nine
“Go away, Jimmy. I got no time for you and your bullshit.” Phillip kept walking.
Jimmy had pulled his truck over to the side of the street, against traffic, just to harass Phillip. What an asshole.
“Where you going? Gonna hook up with one of your girlfriends?” Jimmy sneered as he trailed Phillip.
Like a flash of lightning, Phillip realized the entire time he’d worked at the garage, Jimmy’s only facial expression when he talked to Phillip had b
een disgust. The feeling had been mutual, only Phillip had tried not to show it. Jimmy hadn’t bothered.
Phillip kept walking. If he reached the diner, he’d be safe. But if Jimmy followed him, he’d most likely go in and tell everyone inside Phillip was a fag. The idea of that scene churned Phillip’s stomach. Everyone staring at him with hatred and disgust in their eyes…
The door slammed on Jimmy’s truck and Phillip’s gut did a freefall. What the hell is Jimmy up to? No way would he fight him, right here on the street.
“I said, where you goin’?” Jimmy grabbed Phillip’s duffel bag and swung him around. Phillip stumbled as his knee wrenched, then righted himself as he shook Jimmy off.
“Fuck you, Jimmy. Let me go. Get the hell away from me.” Phillip backed up.
“There ain’t no place in this town for you. We got enough fags already. You better get lost or I might kick your ass into the next county.” Jimmy laughed, but his eyes were filled with hatred. Hands clenched, he stomped toward Phillip. “In fact, might just do it right now.”
There was only one way out of this clusterfuck with his skin intact. Phillip put his hand out, hitting Jimmy right in the center of his chest. Get back in your truck and go home.
Jimmy stepped back, a look of confusion on his face. “Well, you’re lucky, you fucker. I got to go home.” He turned around and headed back to his truck. As he opened the driver’s door, he shot Phillip a look, more ‘what the fuck’ than ‘I’m going to kill you.’
He slammed the door and drove off.
Phillip exhaled. Tremors started in his feet and traveled up through him until even his teeth chattered. Christ, this had to stop. This constant fear of being attacked. Of not feeling safe. The attack at the bar had messed him up, more than physically, like some sort of PTSD. His only recourse had been to influence Jimmy, and he’d been lucky he’d had the chance.
Jimmy had been caught off guard and Phillip had had the quick wits to defuse the situation. If he’d been another person, he might have pushed Jimmy to do something dangerous or even deadly, like drive his truck into a concrete post or off a road.
