Rainbow Hill

by Alex Carreras

  “How about you?” he asked Ethan, encouraging him to monopolize the conversation.

  Ethan’s arm stalled in midair. “What about me? I’ve never been married and divorced.” He began to stroke once again. “To a male or female.”

  “I’m asking about when you came out to your parents. Did they accept it? Or were there fireworks.”

  “Not Roman candle kind of fireworks, but maybe sparklers.”

  Quinn chuckled and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “I suspect that, much like sparklers, the hoopla fizzled out.”

  “Pretty much.” Ethan took another step up the ladder, climbing higher. “My mother’s uncle was gay. It runs in the family.”

  “Was?”

  “He died when I was fifteen.”

  “So that made it easier for you?”

  “Kind of. He wasn’t out or anything, but he never married and always referred to the man he was living with as his roommate.” Ethan shrugged. “You didn’t have to be a detective to figure it out.”

  “Did your parents discuss it?”

  “Probably, but never in front of me. If it was ever an issue, they never said a word to me. Mom loved her brother, and when he died, she was devastated. It was terrible to see her so sad. And it was terrible to see Dad fret and hover over her.” He shook his head. “I never saw him like that before. He was always so strong.”

  “Tucker really loved her. You can see it in his eyes when he speaks of her. He stands straighter. His face softens.” Quinn looked up just in time to see Ethan wipe his eyes with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I’m making you upset."

  “It’s not that.” Ethan’s voice cracked. “It’s really getting warm in here. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this part of my career.”

  “So I was right about the air-conditioned cushy home office,” Quinn joked, attempting to alleviate the mood.

  Ethan made a derisive noise with the back of his throat. “You,” he pointed at Quinn, “less talk and more painting.”

  “Slave driver.”

  * * * *

  Oh, why, why, WHY did he have to look like that? Ethan screamed inside his head. And now he’s starting to show his softer side. Ethan took a few steps back and pretended to survey the completion of the north and east wall of the barn instead of Quinn’s bubble butt wrapped in faded blue jeans. There was even a small hole under the left back pocket that exposed tight, white cotton underwear, a sight that made Ethan’s heart erratic and his cock hard as a metal rod. Damn.

  “So how did we do, boss?” Quinn asked, beads of sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. Ethan wanted to walk up to him, rip the shirt off his toned torso, and take him right there on the hard wood floor. Swallowing, he forced the fantasy out of his head.

  “Not bad,” he answered.

  Quinn reached in his back pocket and pulled out his phone to check the time. “I’m going to walk up to the house and check on things.” Ethan read between the lines, realizing that meant seeing if Frank was sober enough to work that afternoon, Quinn having to step in if he wasn’t. “Want to come with me? We worked through lunch, and I’m starving. At least stop to get a drink.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Ethan agreed. He began the task of cleaning up, replacing the lids on the paint cans and gathering random cloths used while working. “You go ahead. I’ll be up soon.”

  Quinn cocked his head as if he wanted to ask a question but nodded curtly. “See you soon,” he threw over his shoulder before disappearing out the open door.

  Maybe it was the heat, but it was also Quinn that made Ethan become consumed with the need to jerk off…. Immediately. One thing he failed to mention to Quinn earlier was, he not only used to come to the shed to smoke, he came here to masturbate, too. Taking the risk, Ethan darted for the door and peered out to assess the situation.

  The coast is clear.

  Finding the darkest most secluded spot, Ethan ducked behind the last of the stuff that would no doubt be cleared tomorrow, finding shelter. Overcome by lust, he unzipped and reached in his underwear to free up his already hard cock. Just touching himself and the risk of getting caught made his heart smash against his rib cage and his thighs tremble with anticipation. Ethan hadn’t been this horny and excited in quite some time, or possibly ever. Stroking quickly, time being of the essence, he closed his eyes and rested his back against a wall that still remained unpainted. Thoughts of Quinn, past and present, flashed in his mind like an erotic slide show.

  He had always wanted Quinn. Then and now. With the other hand, he cupped his balls and squeezed, imagining it was Quinn working him over. A moan escaped from his parted lips. Quickening his pace and applying more pressure, he felt his cock pulse. He opened his eyes for only an instant to make sure that he was still alone and squeezed them shut again.

  What the fuck am I doing, he thought, masturbating in the middle of the day in a semi-public place? He never took these kinds of risks, other guys did. But as the rush of orgasm overtook his body and washed over his brain, Ethan came to the realization that apparently he was one of those guys after all. Fighting back the urge to cry out, he widened his stance as the stream of thick, pearly cum arched from his cock and shot into the still air of the shed. Over and over it came, landing on the floorboards with force. Unable to hold it in any longer, Ethan moaned as his body convulsed with ecstasy. He rode it to the end and waited until he caught his breath and his heart returned to a somewhat normal pace before opening his eyes again. Flicking his dick, the last remaining drops of cum rained down on to the floor. Folding himself away, Ethan zipped up and shifted so he could step out of his safe haven.

  “Ethan?”

  Ethan froze on hearing Quinn call his name.

  “Yes,” Ethan croaked, the knot of passion still stuck in his throat. He took a step forward and stumbled, either due to the ill-fitting shoes or the fear that he had been discovered spanking the monkey. “What’s up?”

  Quinn pointed, his movement awkward. “Forgot my wallet.” He walked over and picked up his wallet, sitting on a coil of dusty ropes on the floor. “If I didn’t get it now, I’d have forgotten where I left it.” He smiled. “Sign of getting old.”

  “I guess.” Ethan tried to laugh lightheartedly, but it came out sounding fake and forced instead. “H-h-have you been standing there long?” he stammered. “I mean, looking for your wallet?”

  Quinn shrugged his meaty shoulders. “Wasn’t counting the seconds, just looking.” He shoved the wallet in his back pocket. “Did I interrupt something?” His sun-bleached eyebrow hitched upward.

  “I was wondering how much retail we can manage to get in this space without crowding the customer.” Ethan was proud that he had come up with such a credible sounding lie on the spot. And a little frightened that he could deliver it so easily.

  “And what did you come up with?”

  “That it’s possible.”

  “Good.” Quinn smiled tightly. “Are you coming?”

  “W-w-what?” Ethan stammered once again, his panic shooting through the roof.

  “Are. You. Coming?” Quinn over-enunciated each word, speaking slowly.

  Ethan cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I got a little light-headed for a second.”

  “You probably need to eat something. You worked up quite a sweat—” He paused and ran his gaze up and down Ethan’s body, appearing slow and deliberate. “—doing what you were doing.”

  If he could’ve melted into the floorboards, Ethan would have. “Yep,” he managed. “Let’s go eat.”

  * * * *

  After inhaling a turkey sandwich—or was it tuna?—Ethan raced to the upstairs bathroom to take a very cold shower. Even after jacking off in the shed, his loins were still simmering with lust. In the shower, he refused to gratify himself again. He needed to get it together and gain control over his raging hormones. If he didn’t, he’d have to rethink his decision to stay in Jefferson and hightail it back to DC where he
was safe from Quinn’s masculine charms, no matter what the consequences to Oak Hill Farm, his father, Frank, or anyone else for that matter.

  Ethan’s future was shaky enough, and the last thing he needed right then was more uncertainty. Ethan craved stability. He strived for it. So where was it? A part of him believed that deep down he was lying to himself, that he was in fact, a closet drama queen and that his subconscious mind was directing its own spectacular action-packed performance. Between the breakup he refused to acknowledge, the business that seemed to be losing money daily, and now living in the middle of nowhere—a place he never intended to live again, his life was anything but drama-less. Subconscious scores one. Conscious? A big fat zero.

  He groaned outwardly, now safely locked away in his bedroom. One thing he did know, he needed to get drunk. And fast. And he knew exactly who to do it with.

  Chapter Seven

  “You did what?” Nikki shouted over the noise of Rascals, a woman wearing a short denim skirt, a pair of red cowboy boots, and a matching red, sparkly tube top belting away her best Patsy Cline at full volume. “Where?”

  Honestly she wasn’t half bad, Ethan thought, humming along to Crazy. But he was on his third margarita, and they poured them strong there so he figured he was in a forgiving mood. He blinked against the darkness, trying to focus on Nikki’s face.

  “The shed. I jacked off in the shed!”

  Nikki’s eyes darted from left to right and then back again. “Shhh.” She flattened her index finger against her lips. “Everyone here doesn’t need to know that, just me.”

  “I don’t care who knows it, because I am positive that Quinn saw me spanking my business, and now he thinks I’m a big ol’ pervert who can’t keep it in his pants.”

  Nikki snorted into her rum and Diet Coke. “I doubt it,” she slurred, lowering her glass to the table with a thud. “And so what if he does? It just tells him you’re ripe and ready and his for the picking.”

  “Gross. I’m not a fruit.”

  This time Nikki laughed over the singer’s wail. “Some might disagree.”

  “That’s right, go ahead and laugh over my misery and embarrassment. What are friends for?”

  Nikki leaned forward, lowering her chin. “Are you sure you didn’t want to be discovered?” She waggled her eyebrows. “You took quite the risk, and I’m wondering if some teeny tiny, horny part of you wanted to get caught.”

  He couldn’t be mad at his friend sitting across from him because Ethan had been wondering the same thing. “I don’t know anything anymore,” Ethan confessed. “And on top of everything else, I’ve now taken to masturbating in public.” He groaned. “Before all of this is over, I bet I end up with a record and placed on a permanent list.”

  “Stop being such an old lady,” Nikki snorted. “Me and Ryan did it at Slater’s Lake last fall. Don’t know what overcame us. We started out with the intention of going for a hike, and we ended up scaring the wildlife away.” Her eyes became glassy, obvious to Ethan that Nikki was reliving that moment. “That man rocked my world right behind that dilapidated boathouse on the edge of the lake. Thank goodness no one was around.”

  “But you’ve always walked on the wild side. But me?” Ethan’s voice hitched. “I’m as safe as they come, even in the gay world. Unlike most of my friends, I have never visited a bathhouse or picked up men in parks, or done any of that stuff. And one thing I’ve surely never done is cheat.” He lifted his Margarita and chugged it to the bottom, the burn of the alcohol against his throat oddly soothing. He swallowed and licked the tangy flavor from his lips. “But Randall has.” There it was. Ethan’s secret was out, never to be taken back again.

  “I knew it,” Nikki hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? You used to tell me everything. No secrets between friends, remember?”

  “I’m telling you now,” Ethan shot back. “And don’t make me regret it.”

  “What do you mean?” A look of innocence swept over Nikki’s face. She batted doe-like eyes.

  “I don’t want anyone to know. Dad. Quinn. The entire town.”

  “Deal, but you better start talking before I reach across this table and strangle it out of you.”

  Ethan wasn’t sure if Nikki was being serious or not so he decided to let it all go before he found out the hard way.

  From the moment Ethan opened his mouth, the words fell from his lips like a waterfall. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after it was all said and done, he felt like he had experienced a catharsis, a huge weight lifted from off his shoulders.

  Now finished, he waited expectantly while gazing at Nikki, her mouth slightly ajar, a look of shock masking her features. “Fuck me” was all she said when she managed to speak.

  Ethan lifted his hand into the air and whistled, calling over the waitress. Only after ordering two more drinks, one for each, Nikki began consoling. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said. “So what are you going to do? Do you think it was only a fling, one of those itch things, or is this Splitsville?”

  Before Ethan could answer, Nikki continued. “I really hate Randall right now. He was never good enough for you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Never. He always thought that since you came from a small town, he was better than you. What a fucking asshole. Do you want Ryan to go kick his ass? Because if I asked him to, he would.”

  Ethan shook his head, falling in love a little more with his best friend. “That won’t be necessary. It’ll work out.”

  “You mean you intend to forgive him?”

  “I don’t know what I intend to do.”

  “Has he asked you to?”

  Ethan remained silent.

  “He hasn’t, has he?”

  He knew he was pathetic.

  Nikki reached across the table and took Ethan’s hand. “Sweetie, forget about Randall. There are much better men out there.”

  “But I love him.”

  “Why?”

  He wanted to get angry and protect Randall…but he couldn’t, Nikki’s question was a reasonable one. “I don’t know,” Ethan mumbled, wishing the waitress would arrive ASAP. “Maybe it’s because I know that he did—”

  “He cheated,” Nikki interrupted.

  “Once love me,” he finished. “Maybe we can get that back if I just hold on long enough until he returns to his senses. He can’t possibly stay with Juan or Emilio or Angel for too terribly long.”

  “Why can’t he? That guy probably has buns of steel and pecs to match, not to mention a very big—”

  “What’s your point?” Ethan was starting to lose his patience.

  “My point is it’s over. O-V-E-R,” Nikki spelled.

  “You don’t know that.” Ethan crossed him arms over his chest, an act of defiance. “And you don’t know him.”

  “You’re right, I don’t.” Nikki returned. “And why is that? I’ll tell you why. It’s because he never comes here and does this.” Nikki waved her arms around. “Does anything with anyone. He just turns his nose up and makes irritating noises with his teeth. He’s an asshole, and I’m sorry you’re in pain, but the best thing for you to do is to forget about him. He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.”

  Nikki was right, this Ethan knew. But it still hurt hearing it, especially from his closest friend.

  From out of the crowd, the waitress appeared and left the drinks on the table without a word, which Ethan was thankful for. He didn’t have the energy for small talk. The two friends sat in silence and sipped their drinks, waiting for the air to clear a bit before resuming their talk.

  Ethan decided to make the first move. “Thanks for defending me. Although it hurts to hear it, I know Randall isn’t going to come back. And you’re right when you call him an asshole.” Ethan chuckled when he said the derogatory remark. It was fun to say it about the man who had made him feel like shit for the last four weeks. He repeated it again, but this time louder and with more force. “Asshole!”

  Nikki chuckled too. “Asshole!”

 
“God that sounds good to say,” Ethan admitted. “My poor mother’s probably turning over in her grave right now. She hated profanity. Said it was for people with low intellect.”

  “Pshaw,” Nikki slurred. “I knew your mother, and she would’ve agreed with us. She might not have called Randall an asshole, but she certainly would have called him a jerk.”

  Ethan nodded. “Yep. She was fond of that word. Even when she was angry, she was kind.” Sadness washed over Ethan, the alcohol buzzing in his brain. “I miss her so much. More than ever now that I’m home. I see her everywhere.” His throat tightened, and the muscles behind his eyes began to ache. “I’m sure Dad does too.”

  Nikki’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Please don’t make me cry. You know that when I get started, I can’t stop. Plus, it’s embarrassing to do it in a redneck country bar drunk off my ass. It’s a cliché.”

  Laughter bubbled from deep within Ethan’s gut and erupted into the cacophony of the bar, blending in. Nikki wiped away a tear that had managed to fall, sharing in the laughter. “You really are special,” Ethan said.

  “Special as in the short-bus kind of special, or as in the cotton candy and yummy chocolate bar kind of special?

  “Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate, but this time, it’s the latter.”

  “I’m so glad you asked me if you could braid my hair during third grade recess. If you hadn’t, I might not be sitting here now killing brain cells with you.” Nikki sighed and smiled drunkenly. “I love you.” The smile grew larger and more lopsided. “And Randall is a fool if he doesn’t. Go after Quinn. He’s lovely. Tall, tanned, muscular, sweet, and lovely.”

  “He doesn’t want me,” Ethan scoffed. "And I’m not so sure that I want him.”

  “Then you’re the one on the short bus, buddy, not me.” She stabbed a finger at Ethan. “He’s a catch,” Nikki said, except it came out more like cassshhhhhh.