by Jeff Mann
Lucas’s face clouded over. “To hell with her. Anyway, late afternoon, we can head down to Helvetia with Amie and Grace and see some of the Fasnacht festivities and have dinner. Maybe hang around and watch Old Man Winter go up in flames. Planting time’s a’comin’. You gonna help me in the garden this spring?”
“Depends. If it’s warm, will you work bare-chested?”
“Hell, sure.”
“Then you got it.”
“Great.” Lucas winked, flexing his triceps. “Okay, lemme trim my beard up for tonight. You wanna take a shower?”
“Yeah, once you’re done. I think I’ll trim my beard too, come to think of it. No reason the ladies should have to be seen in public with a couple of wild barbarians.”
“True,” said Lucas. “We can keep the wild to ourselves. And I’m thinking, you stick with me, there’s gonna be a lotta wild, a lotta glorious wild, to come.”
“I’m counting on that.” Brice settled back onto the pillows and smiled, watching Lucas stride bare-assed into the bathroom. He was already imagining Lucas working in the garden, wearing nothing but muddy boots and jeans, his pale shoulders growing pink under the spring sun, his nipples hard under the tongue of some lucky breeze, getting sweaty and working up an appetite for first a big country meal and then a long night of love.
My hunky, shirtless farmboy. Yep, thought Brice, that’s a sweet image, and this is gonna be a sweet spring. We’re gonna rise outta the cold together, Lucas and me. I’ll bet there’s gonna be another song or three in that.
“SO YOU TWO REALIZE,” BRICE warned, “now that our shocking sodomitic affair has been exposed by the Star, if you’re seen with us, you’ll be tarred with the same brush. Maybe we shouldn’t go to Helvetia together. If there are reporters there, things might get ugly.”
Brice sat with Amie, Grace, and Lucas at a table in the dining area of Radclyffe’s Roost. The four friends were finishing off a pot of Amie’s ginger tea before attending the Fasnacht celebrations. Brice, Lucas, and Grace were dressed in simple jeans and earth-tone sweaters, but Amie, ever the fashion plate, was wearing a string of pearls and a long crimson dress with high-heeled black boots. Beyond the big window, a light snow was falling.
“Do we look like we’re worried?” Grace said. “‘Mysterious Beauty’ here is waiting for her next appearance in mass media.”
“True! And the next excuse to pull her pistol.” Amie pursed her red lips and struck a second’s seductive pose before waving off Brice’s concern. “I’ve already told you: locals know that Grace and I are a couple. We’ve had very little trouble.”
Grace chuckled. “That’s because everyone in the county is afraid you’ll refuse to serve them your sterling cuisine if they piss you off.”
“Also true.” Amie poured the last of the tea into Lucas’s empty cup. “Lucas, I’m so sorry your mother chose to be such a raving termagant.”
“If you mean ‘bitch,’ yeah, me too.” Lucas swigged down the tea and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I was always closer to Daddy, but Mommy and I used to get along pretty well…till she found out I was gay. Of course, that lil’ secret was revealed in the worse way possible. Hustling was the stupidest goddamn thing I ever did. Gotta admit I liked the attention even more’n the money, but, man….”
“I felt the same as a burlesque dancer, honey.” Amie patted the back of Lucas’s hand. “Admiration can be as intoxicating as cash. Don’t blame yourself. We know you did all that to help your mother keep her house.”
“Yep. And now she never wants to see me again. Mean as she’s gotten, I guess that’s fine with me.” Lucas rose. “Okay, folks. My stomach’s growling, and that buffet’s a’waitin’. Let’s head on out.”
“I’ll drive. Our car has more room,” Grace said.
“Let me just get my purse,” Amie said, smiling wickedly. “In case we encounter more vile reporters.”
“Honey, you can’t just wave a pistol at folks in the middle of downtown Helvetia,” Grace said.
“Isn’t that a pity? Law and order can be such a pesky obstacle. Why, given the opportunity, I could teach all sorts of folks better manners.”
Grinning, Lucas pulled on his black denim jacket. “That’s something I’d sure like to see.”
“Come on, Annie Oakley,” Grace said. “Let’s get our coats. I’m hungry too.”
As soon as the women left the room, Lucas pulled a flask from his jacket’s inner pocket, opened it, and took a long drink.
Brice raised his eyebrows. “Starting early, aren’t you?”
Lucas shrugged. “It’s almost five. Want some?” He offered Brice the flask.
“Sure. What is it?”
“That Scotch you like. They don’t serve booze at the Hutte, so I figured this’d keep us warm during the parade later. It’s pretty damned cold out.”
“Thanks.” Brice took a long sip and handed the flask back. “You ready to be seen in public now that everyone knows we’re—”
“Lovers? Hell, yes, I’m ready. Everybody’s gonna look at us and think, ‘What’s a guy so talented doing with holler trash like that?’”
Brice snorted. “No, everybody’s gonna be thinking, ‘What’s that old has-been doing with a guy so staggeringly hot?’”
Lucas laughed. “Flattery, huh?” He took another big drink, then sealed the flask, slipped it back into his jacket, and wrapped an arm around Brice’s waist. “You don’t need to sweet-talk me, big man. Tonight, when we get home, I’m gonna get you nekkid and deep-throat your dick. Then I’m thinking it’s high time that you—”
Lucas’s erotic murmurings were cut short by Grace and Amie’s entrance. “Ready?” Grace asked, jingling her car keys.
“Ohhhh, yeah,” Lucas said, patting Brice’s ass. “I am ready indeed.”
WHEN THE FOUR ENTERED THE PACKED DINING room of the Hutte, everyone in the place stopped talking and stared, just as Brice had feared.
“Oh, hell, here we go,” Brice muttered beneath his breath, bracing himself for lobbed insults and the hostilities bound to escalate after that. For a second, he caught himself hoping that Amie had indeed brought her gun.
The tension was almost immediately broken by Eleanor, the owner, who rushed over to seat them. “Welcome, y’all. So glad you could join us for Fasnacht!” she shouted, giving each of them big hugs one after another. She turned then, giving the rest of the room a stern glance. Cowed, the other patrons dropped their eyes to their plates and continued eating.
“Like oil on troubled waters,” Lucas said. “Thanks, Miss Eleanor. You seen any reporters roundabouts?”
“Hard to tell, honey. Lots of out-of-towners make it to Helvetia for Fasnacht. I’ll let you know if I notice anyone suspicious. And let me know if anyone in here gives you any trouble about that trashy Star article. If they do, I’ll toss their butts out into the snow. I won’t abide meanness in this place.”
“That’d be much appreciated,” Brice said as Eleanor showed them to a table in the back. His hands, he realized, were shaking slightly as he scanned the room, tensed for trouble. Full-blown siege mentality I got going here, he thought. Think I need me another swig of Lucas’s flask. “Lucas tells me you have a special holiday buffet tonight. What’s on it?”
“Oh, we have quite the tasty array. Sausage, chicken, bratwurst, parsley potatoes, sauerkraut, green beans, homemade cheese, homemade bread, plus peach cobbler for dessert. We also have some local beer. Does that appeal?”
“Hell, yes. I mean, ‘Yes, ma’am,’” Lucas enthused, rubbing his hands together. “That’s well worth the risk of running into more scandal-rag guys. Y’all want to start with some beers?”
“Absolutely,” said Grace, pulling a chair out for Amie.
To Brice’s relief, the meal passed without incident, other than the occasional curious or judgmental sideways looks from other restaurant patrons and a full-on glare from an emaciated old man near the door, a disgusted expression that Lucas returned in kind. Lucas’s buddy Ray ma
de it a point to come over and be friendly, as did a pretty blonde girl that Lucas had grown up near, and Eleanor stopped by their table often to make sure that they were enjoying themselves. The only thing that concerned Brice was Lucas’s steady drinking. By the time they’d emptied their plates, the boy had put down four beers and was looking flush-faced.
“I’m payin’ for this,” Lucas insisted, snatching up the check and slapping down several big bills. “We all know I’m a big ole mess, but you three have really saved my life lately. Now let’s check out that parade.”
“THIS IS GREAT,” BRICE WHISPERED. “Really magical. I’m so glad we came.”
The two men stood on the side of the road in the dark and the softly falling snow, watching the procession of people pass. Many of the participants were costumed, several wearing huge, grotesque masks, and all carried candles or lanterns. A few feet away, Grace and Amie stood together, Amie pointing out especially interesting costumes and Grace taking photographs of them. Across the road, locals gathered around a bonfire, laughing and chatting. Inside the nearby Community Hall, the sounds of banjo, fiddle, and guitar signaled that the square dance had just begun. Both Brice and Lucas had pulled the hoods of their sweatshirts up over their ball caps to keep the snow out of their collars, and that concealment, plus the celebrants’ own party-mood enthusiasm and the winter dimness, seemed to shelter them from being recognized or receiving any negative attentions.
Lucas leaned into Brice and took a quick sip from his flask. “Glad you like it,” he mumbled. “That food sure was delicious.”
“It was. I’d never had Swiss food before you brought me here. Don’t you love being from West Virginia?” Brice looked up into the winter sky, opened his mouth, and caught a few flakes on his tongue. “Beautiful landscapes—rivers and hills—and, on top of that, events like this. Amazing cultural variety. Folks preserving their heritage. The music, the food, the costumes. Sometimes I miss Nashville, and I sure miss the money and the fans, but this…. Man, it’s good to be back in the mountains. Sweet little small towns like this….”
“Holy fucking shit,” Lucas blurted, stiffening against Brice.
“What is it?”
“There. That big bald guy in the blue peacoat. There across the road.”
“Yeah, I see him. Who is it?”
Lucas lifted the flask to his mouth and noisily slurped it. “It’s Reverend Davis. My mother’s minister. The son of a bitch who convinced her I was a hell-bound sinner she should cut out of her life. I wanna go over there and kick his ass.”
“Lucas, don’t,” Brice said, laying a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “You’ve had too much to drink. You’re on parole, remember? Don’t do something we’ll both regret. I don’t want to lose you to the legal system, okay?”
Lucas stuffed the flask inside his jacket. His left hand cupped his right fist. Then he released a long breath and unclenched his hand. “Shit, you’re right. Fuck him. He ain’t worth getting worked up over. Let’s head on into the Community Hall and listen to some music.”
“That’d be best,” Brice said. Clasping Lucas by the arm, he led him over to Grace and Amie. “Hey, ladies,” he said. “Want to head inside? Looks like the parade’s about over, and my toes are getting numb.”
“Surely,” Amie said, brushing snow from her stylish felt hat. “Let’s see some of the dancing and the masked ball. Do you want to stay till the effigy of Old Man Winter is burnt? That won’t happen till midnight.”
“Lucas, what do you think? Maybe we—”
Brice was cut short by the sound of someone shouting Lucas’s name. “Lucas! Lucas Bryan!”
“Son of a fucking whore,” Lucas growled. “Here he comes. Charging like a goddamn bull.”
“Who the hell?” Grace said. “Is that—?”
“Mommy’s minister,” Lucas said, fists clenching up again.
“Reverend Davis,” Amie said. “The bloated toad.”
By the time the portly man had lumbered across the road, the four friends had formed a tight defensive line. Amie, Brice noticed, was unzipping her clutch purse. Amie said that she had dreams about shooting him through the head. Oh, hell, I hope we don’t all end up in jail, Brice thought, fixing the minister with a glare.
“Lucas Bryan! How dare you show your face in public?” the pastor wheezed.
“Fuck off, Reverend,” Lucas said, his voice low and stony. “This is a free country. We got as much a right to celebrate here as anyone.”
“Your kind have far more freedoms than you should. You should be put in camps, in my opinion.”
“Camps?” Brice blurted. “What kind of crazy Nazi asshole are you?”
Davis ignored him. “Lucas, you’re a criminal and a whore. You’re a chancre on this county.”
“You’d better shut the fuck up and move on down the road, Reverend,” Brice growled, squaring his shoulders and stepping in front of Lucas. “That’d be the wise thing to do.”
The minister looked Brice up and down, his mouth twisting. “You. The pervert singer. Sharing a bed with this misguided child, encouraging him in his corruption. Is it true? Are you two engaging together in carnal knowledge?”
“You’re damn right we are,” Lucas said, moving around Brice to stand beside him. “And I thank God for that.”
“Don’t even mention the name of God. The name of the Lord on those lips? Those lips you’ve used for abominable pleasures? You’re a pestilence. A horrible punishment will be dealt you, I have no doubt.”
“Punishment?” Brice cracked his knuckles. “You’re the one’s gonna see some punishment, unless you get out of my face.”
The reverend folded his arms atop his belly and smirked. “You wouldn’t dare touch me here. Attacking a man of God? In public?”
“I wouldn’t risk it if I were you,” Brice snarled. Inside his chest, a fury was building, one fueled by all the abuse and injustices of the last three months. Part of him ached to thrash the abusive pastor till he bled. Another part struggled to resist that impulse, knowing the legal consequences if Lucas were to become embroiled in a brawl.
“Brice is right,” Lucas said, moving closer to Brice. “Stuff it up your ass. Leave us the fuck alone, or you’ll regret it.”
“You’re threatening me too? Exactly what I’d expect from a ex-con like you.” The minister shook his head and scowled. “You’re a ruffian and a delinquent. How your mother has suffered since the enormity of your sinful prostitution was revealed. And now you’re infamous. Everyone in the nation knows of your rampant immorality. Your mother is such a good, fine, upstanding woman, but you seem to have devoted your life to breaking her heart with your disgusting blasphemies.”
“Maybe her heart needed broken,” Amie said, shifting her purse from her right hand to her left. “Considering that it’s become a vessel you’ve filled with poison.”
“You two as well?” Davis sneered at Amie and Grace. “Sapphists and sodomites. It makes sense that you four would band together, drawn together by perversion and evil. For too long, your sinister lesbianism has—”
“Watch out how you speak to ladies, you damn fool,” Brice interjected, nostrils flaring. “We’ve had enough of your nastiness. If you don’t leave us the hell alone, I’m going to break that fat face of yours.”
“No need, Brice,” Amie said. “I’ve been wanting to have a little chat with Reverend Davis for a long time, and tonight I’m going to have it.”
“Uh, oh,” Grace said, smiling faintly.
Amie left Grace’s side to position herself between the minister and her friends. “I believe you have it wrong, Reverend. We’re drawn together by faith and hope and love. Faith in our camaraderie, hope for a better future, and love for one another.”
“Here she goes,” Grace said, giving Brice a wink. “Better stand back.”
Amie gave Grace a fond glance before regarding the minister with a cold glare. “Despite the many pressures and adversities we’ve faced, Grace and I have been together
for nearly twenty years. And now these two men, thanks to some kind fate, have found one another and have decided to share their lives together. This is a reason for celebration, but you’re too stupid to realize that.”
Davis put his hands on his hips. “Stupid? No, I’m simply saying what Christ—”
Amie cut him off, her voice steely and composed. “I believe that any Biblical scholar can point out to you an important fact. It’s knowledge that might ameliorate your state of vast ignorance, knowledge that any people with a modicum of sense already possess. That fact is this: in the Bible, Jesus never once speaks against homosexuality. He speaks of forgiveness and love, but perhaps you’ve forgotten that, stewing as you are in your own toxic virulence.”
“Madam, how dare you—”
Amie cut him off again, her voice rising. “Yes, virulence. Perhaps a man of your embarrassing limitations isn’t familiar with the word. Let me speak more simply, since you appear to be a simple man…simple in so many ways. You’re poisonous, Reverend Davis, and that poison infects the people around you. You’re poisonous the way a scorpion is, or a wolf spider, or a Gila monster, or a diamondback rattler. Except that Nature has armed those creatures with poison in order that they might protect themselves, in order that they might feed, while you—”
“You’re comparing me to those nasty—”
“Be quiet, Reverend. I’m not done. You are indeed like them in your toxicity, but, unlike their venom, yours has no natural purpose. Your poison, your hatred, are unnatural. They are a sign of disease, like a burgeoning tumor.”
“Unnatural? You four are the unnatural—”
“Be silent, I told you! This is not your time to give a sermon, it’s mine. Your hatred is that of a little man with a little soul. I would reach for a vulgar analogy here and impugn the size of your manhood as well, but I suspect that your genitals have long ago atrophied, dwindling past the reach of metaphor.”
Davis gasped. Lucas sniggered. Brice guffawed.
