by Cooper West
“Youain’t said.”
“Well, I’mtryingto be fair.”
Chuck leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and stared at the ground. “I’msellingout.”
“Huh?”
“I’m selling out my interests in the family corporation. Keeping the store, for now, but the lawyers are busy getting everything appraised, inventoried, and valued. It’s a fucking mess; half the family thinks I shouldn't get a dime and are being downright dirtyabout it.”
“How so? I mean, youownwhat youown.”
“They are trying to make some of the smaller businesses look like they’re bankrupt. Hell, Cousin Terryhid three tractors fromthe bank’s appraiser.”
“That’s… fucked up.”
Chuck nodded, exhaustion and stress radiating out from his posture. “It is. I’ve hired a private investigator, whichis costingme anarmand a leg. But if he can prove what they are doing, I’ve got a lawsuit on my hands. I doubt I’d go that far, depending, but it’s ammo for the lawyers.”
Garywondered what Chuck was tryingto tellhim with this but did not ask because Chuck did not look like he was done talkingyet. After a moment, he started up again.
“So I get the store. I’ve put my house up for sale, and the kids hate me, but we’re moving. I’mnot having them finish out in Cornerstone, period. I’ve even got their mother inonthis.”
“Your ex?”
Chuck smiled at himfondly. “One and the same.”
“I thought she wasn’t involved with you anymore.”
“She didn’t want to be involved with myfamily. She’s got partial custody, a few weeks in the summer, alternate holidays, that sort of thing. Ellie’s a good, hardworking woman, and I did her a disservice, dragging her to Cornerstone. She’s down inAlpharetta, outside of Atlanta, making good money and doing her thing at an interior design firm.” His expression turned serious as he stared directly at Gary. “We’re moving there.”
Gary’s stomach dropped. When Chuck said he was moving, Gary assumed he meant all the way over to Holden, not two hundred miles to the south.
“You’re leaving.”His mouthfelt tight as he spoke.
“I’d be mad to stay. Daddy’s on a tear, and if he doesn’t live long enough to make my life miserable, there are others who will gladly step up. I could probably take it, move here or even over to Braeden, but my kids don’t deserve to be in the crosshairs, and believe me, they will be if we stay anywhere within fifty miles. They won’t like starting at new schools, but it’s Scylla or Charybdis.”
The phrase reminded Gary that for all his downhome charm, Chuck was an educated man who spent years inAtlanta being a semi-pro musician and a proud gay man. He moved home to take care of the family who was all but running him out now, and it was more thanfair for himto put his kids first inthe equationas his world disintegrated. Frustrated, Gary grabbed at the first thought which came to him, snapping the words out angrily.
“I’ve never evenmet your kids.”
Chuck’s expression turned from serious to stunned. “Do youwant to?”
“Kind of not the point, is it? You’ve already decided to move, you’ve kept me out of the loop in your decision making here, and you’ve been careful to keep me at arm’s length from your private life.” Gary spoke without thinking, his fears and anger crystallizing as the words left his mouth. Until that moment he had not realized how much it bothered him to be shut out, justifying Chuck’s actions as reasonable, but it sounded far too much like the years spent listening to Roger explain over and over why he had to keep their relationship a secret.
“Gary….” Chuck trailed off, sitting up straight in the chair.
“No, I get it. I totally do. I played this game for fucking years, playing at making house while always coming in last. Thanks. Been there, done that. Not interested in the rerun.” Gary stood up, too angry to stay still. Chuck followed him, standing slowly, as if afraid to spook him.
“That wasn’t mygoal.”
“Given that you’re headed for Atlanta, I have to wonder about your goals. Let me know at the last minute? Would you have even told me today if I hadn’t cornered youabout touring?”
“I’m just trying to clear the decks,” Chuck said cautiously. Garybroke.
“Clear themright the fuck out oftown, you mean! Damn it, did I factor at allin this?” he yelled, pointing at Chuck.
Chuck stood still, visibly thinking about what to say.
“Yeah, didn’t think so. Get out.”
“What?”
“Get. Out. Tally’ll find me a fiddle player. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Gary sneered, holding himself back from throttling the man he was in love with.
“Don’t. I think you’re taking this all the wrong way. I was goingto ask youto move withus—”
“The hell you were! Nice of you to mention that now. Did the idea just come to you? Good try. Now get out.”
Chuck snapped his mouth closed, finally angry. “I won’t come back.”
“Since that’s been your plan all along, I’m not reallyshocked bythat.”
Chuck stomped over to the door but turned around whenhe got there. Theystared at eachother for a few moments before Chuck opened the door and walked out.
Gary held himself completely still until he heard the truck roaring off down the drive. In the silence left behind, his anger peaked, fury and embarrassment coursing through him. He picked up the chair Chuck had sat in and hurled it at the door. One leg went through the inset glass window, shattering it, and Gary wondered superstitiously if that was a metaphor for his broken heart as he stared at the mess, the cold afternoon winds whipping a light dusting of snow into the room.
ChapterNineteen
Tallywas unusually reserved when Gary called him
later, after duct-taping some plastic canvas over the hole in his front door, sweeping up the glass, and throwing Chuck’s chair halfway down the lawn for good measure. Gary decided he was not too proud to be petty.
“So, a fiddle player. I cando that.” Gary figured he sounded as raw as he felt, given how solicitous Tallywas acting.
“Can you find one who can learn the music that fast?”
“Yeah, although I’ll pay more for it. Don’t worry about it. Better to have someone good, ready to go in May, thanstart the tour without a fiddle player.”
Gary nodded, even knowing Tally could not see him. There was a long pause, even more unusual for Tally, before Gary broke. “He’s moving to Atlanta. Getting his kids the hellout ofDodge and closer to their mother.”
Tally tsked-tsked. “And he didn’t tell you this earlier?”
“No.”
There was another longpause. “Okay.”
“It’s over. I threw himout.”
“Sure. Ofcourse.”
The simple phrase flooded Gary with relief. He had second and third thoughts earlier as he cleaned up the mess, arguing with himself the whole time about whether he was being fair to Chuck versus standing up for himself. It was to the point that, despite still being furious over the situation, he doubted his actions. “Yougoingto be okay?”
“Honestly, not really. But I’ll hold together. You just find me that fiddle player. Also, we need some kind ofvanor bus or something.”
“I’m buying you a trailer. The SUV can handle that, and there are only four of you on the road. No roadies this trip.”
Gary sighed, not looking forward to the low-rent version of touring but understanding the reasons behind it.
Tally moved on to discussing future tours, mentioningusingthe Buzzies as anopeningact, and they talked for a while about the mechanics of larger tours. By the time they hung up, Gary was feeling like himself again. He stared at the phone, thencalled Fran.
“Hey! What’s up? Usually Chuck is the one who calls.”
“You want to tour? Tally’s lined up a month of gigs, mostly regional. We’d be cramped on the road and sleeping in cheap hotels, and you’ll be playing with a pianist and a fiddler y
ou’ve never met.”
Gary was getting used to long pauses in his conversations bythen. He sighed.
“Fiddler? No offense, but what about Chuck?”
“He’s not coming. Youin?”
“Jesus, slow down. Yeah, I’m interested. Very interested, but I need to talk to Teddy and know a few more details, like, youknow, money.”
“I’lle-mailyou what Tally sent me. It pretty much covers everything. As for money, you’ll get paid as a backup member to my solo act, but it’ll be just enough to cover your rent while you’re onthe road.”
“It’s an opportunity I don’t want to say no to, but I have to think about it. That okay?”
“Sure, yeah. But the pressure is on, I got to tell you. There isn’t much time for anyone to pick up the music before the tour starts, so we need your answer bytomorrow.”
“Okay, but tell me why you need a fiddle player. Chuck was planning on touring with you. What happened?”
Garystalled. “He… he never mentioned that.”
Yet again, there was another long pause before Fran blew out a breath. “Aw, shit, you two fought. Is that what this is? Youhave a falling-out?”
Gary bit his cheek, holding back. “Something like that. Did you know he was planning on moving to Atlanta?”
“What? No! Wait, moving to Atlanta? Since when?”
“Ask him. Not like I know what the hell his plans are.”
“I damn sure will. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow with my answer. Gotta go.” She hung up, and if Gary was a betting man, he would lay money that she was speed-dialing Chuck next. He used his phone to e-mail Fran the info, then sat at the dinette blankly, completely uncertain about what to do with the rest of his day. Determined not to be a morose emo teenager about his love life, he decided to act like an adult and clean something.
His afternoon passed in a blur of cleaning powder, and by evening he was physically exhausted, whichhe figured was the point. He sat inhis porchchair in the living room, drinking a beer and listening to the sounds of silence. With winter still fighting off spring, there wasn’t much to hear other than wind and creaking wood. He wondered how he was going to reform his band with the loss of both Jamie and Chuck, and figured the low-key tour would be more about relearning to play as a unit than selling music. It would serve as a trial by fire, in any case, and with that thought, he skipped his second beer and went to bed.
He woke up late to the noise of Chuck’s truck pulling into the drive. Gary cursed, because he was too sleepy to deal with Chuck and his issues, but got out of bed anyway. He slept in his flannel pants and a sweatshirt due to the unflagging chill of the house that the steamheaters barely compensated for, so allhe had to do was put on his slippers and head downstairs. Before he got even that far, the door opened to a raucous noise, people chattering and laughing and stomping around. Thrown, Gary tore down the stairs, figuringhe was beinginvaded.
He stopped at the bottom, jaw open but speechless. Chuck stood looking at the damaged front door as if it was personally insulting his mother, while a young girl and a surly looking pre-teen boy wandered around. Theyallturned to look back at Gary.
“What happened to the door?”Chuck asked.
“There was an accident.” Gary was not about to admit to a hissy fit in front of who he assumed were Chuck’s kids.
“I bet.” Chuck wasn’t buying it but let it drop. Gary figured he probably had to drive around the chair on the front lawn, so there was no point in talking about it anyway.
Chuck stepped up and waved a hand at the immobilized kids. “Martha and Evan.”
Gary nodded at them, still struck dumb by the invasion. They looked back at him with a similar expression.
“Well, don’t make your old man look bad or anything,”Chuck sighed.
That worked like a poker at their backsides. Martha bounced up and stuck out her hand. “Martha Everett, Mr. Winston. Pleasure to meet you.” She had the same accent as Chuck, just not as subtle, with a lilt to it that Gary bet would never leave. He shook her hand automatically, remembering the social graces his mother had burned into his brain before he was even five, despite being dressed in slippers and flannel pajamas.
“Pleasure is mine, Miss Martha.”
Evan sulked up and stuck out his hand, looking brave. “Mr. Winston. I’mEvan.”
Gary shook the hand with the manly authority an elder was expected to give a boy. Evanpicked up onit, and it seemed to settle hima bit, but his sour expression did not change. He was the spitting image of his father in miniature, although with dusty blond hair and brown eyes.
“Good to meet you as well, Evan. Your poppa speaks wellofyou.”
It was the right thing to say. Evan nodded in appreciationas he retreated politelytoward his father.
“I’d ask ifyou had breakfast yet, but I’mguessin’ that’s a no.” Chuck looked him over critically. Gary glared at him.
“I was just gettingup.”
Chuck nodded, then made a shooing motion at the kids. “Kitchen. That way. C’mon.” He herded them right past Garywithout another look.
Furious, Gary stormed back upstairs to splash water on his face and put socially acceptable clothes on. He headed back down less than fifteen minutes later, smelling the heady allure of coffee fromthe stairs. Walking into the kitchen, he found a domestic tableau out of a Norman Rockwell painting, with Chuck and Martha fussing at each other over the stove, starting a batch of pancakes, while Evan looked annoyed, cutting up a few oranges.
“There’s coffee, Mr. Winston,” Evan said, pointing at the pot with his knife, as if Gary were a guest.
“Thanks.” Gary decided not to fight it for now, certainly not before coffee. He got his cup full and sat down at the dinette to watch the family in action. Evan kept glancing at him furtively, as if trying to “see” the gay, Gary figured. He was probably the first truly out homosexual Evan had ever met, right on the heels of finding out that his father was gay. Gary was not expecting a warmwelcome in that corner, but he could handle idle curiosityinthe meantime.
Martha smiled at him, makingGaryremember her fondness for rainbow stickers. If nothing else, he could winpoints byshowingher his old guitar case later.
Chuck barely acknowledged him, though, and Gary could not figure that out. The whole visit was obviously some kind of attempt to fix things, but given the volatile nature of kids in general and the unstable status ofGaryand Chuck’s relationship, Garycould not see this endingwell.
But before then, theywere havingpancakes.
It took a while, because Martha and Chuck were making about ten dozen pancakes to feed the four of them. The silence kept up until everyone sat down to eat. Chuck surprised himby not saying grace, because, with kids at the table, Gary figured that was a given. Instead, Chuck nodded at them and said “dig in,” and they did, like locusts. It was mildly horrifying to watch, so Gary tried to focus on his own stack for a few minutes.
Finally he could not take it anymore. “So, just in the area?”
“No.” Chuck set down his cutlery, which was some kind of signalfor the kids to stare at the table and chew quietly. “I thought about what you said, and I think you were right. It’s time you met my kids. No point inplanninga future together ifwe’re allstrangers.”
Evan choked and went for his glass of milk. Gary gave the boy a raised eyebrow, but Evan’s upbringing showed throughinhis silence.
Gary did not want to have the bulk of this conversation in front of the kids, and the look Chuck gave himpretty much said the same thing, but he had to saysomething.
“That’s a lot of change. For you and the kids.” He purposefullyleft himselfout, and Chuck noticed.
“For allofus.”
“I stillgot the tour inMayand others after that.”
“Atlanta area is better to start out of, for regional tours. And you’re closer to a real airport for longer hauls.”
“Yougot this allplanned out, do you?”
Chuck surprised himwith a look of con
trition and worry. “Not so much, no. Just… hopes.”
The kids both glanced at their father with their own worry evident. Gary decided to redirect the conversation.
“Going to be a big change for you, Evan. Atlanta’s nothinglike Marker County.”
Evan blinked in surprise at being addressed. He nodded slowly, thinking about his answer. Gary figured the boy was trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t piss his father off and wished him luck with that.
“I’m not looking forward to it. But Dad’s got to move, and he won’t let me staywithAunt Jess.”
Chuck sighed. “We been over this. I already share custody with your mom. Not going to divide it further withAunt Jess.”
Evan went a little red, making Gary remember how poorly he handled his own temper at that age. Chuck clearlysaw it too.
“You want to speak your mind, Evan, I think now’s as good a time as any,” Chuck said softly, leaning back in the chair. Gary and Martha shared a surprised look.
“Things were okay here until you hooked up with him,” Evan laid it out, which Gary had to admire even as the words made himcringe.
“Well that’s right honest of you,” Chuck said, his voice flat again.
“It’s true! Now I’m a laughing stock at school, and we’re leaving our home, and I don’t get this!” Evan waved a hand between Chuck and Gary, his face going redder. Garysuspected a meltdownwas imminent.
“Maybe I should…?” Gary pointed toward the livingroom.
“Why don’t you and Martha go practice some music? She’s got a good hand onguitar.”
Martha did not need asking twice, flying out of her chair into the other room. Gary followed slowly, refilling his coffee as he left and dragging the rarely used door closed behind him.
Martha stood in the den in front of his collection of instruments and paraphernalia, looking red-faced herself. Gary hoped she didn’t start crying, because he really was not awake enough to handle that, but instead she stomped her foot.
