Foothills Pride Stories, Volume 2

by Pat Henshaw

  Mitch turned to me, his face starting to redden.

  This was ridiculous. Everyone was staring at us like we were the floor show. The poor, hard-working musician had stopped playing. Even the few waitstaff had vanished.

  “You know, I could use that drink about now. How about you, Mitch?” When I started to turn toward the bartender, Glen knocked into me, one of his hands shooting out toward my side. I caught his fist in my hand.

  He had girl’s hands, all soft and crunchy with a nice collection of bones, which I squished together.

  “Hey, watch it there, Glen. You might trip and fall if you’re not careful,” I said with a laugh.

  Since I had a few inches and at least fifty pounds on him, I didn’t want to provoke a fight. I mean, how fun is it to pummel a pretty city guy in a nice neighborhood bar? I’m not a complete idiot.

  Glen didn’t have much of a poker face, so his eyes teared up, and he looked like he was in pain. Shit, my hand ached too from crunching down on his fist, but I wasn’t gonna show him I hurt.

  “Ben, I think Glen was just leaving.” Mitch put his hand on my arm.

  “Oh, sure enough. It was nice meeting you.” I unhanded him and then slapped him on the back the way all us good old boys do when we’re trying to prove a point. So he didn’t fall over, I steadied him with my other hand, making him back up a little. I don’t like my space crowded. Not by anyone dressed like a player, at any rate.

  “You be careful,” Glen said, his eyes filled with hate. His gaze lingered a minute and then flashed back to Mitch. “We’re not through.”

  I laughed and scratched my nose. “Yeah, well, you got the lines down, I gotta admit. I thought Mitch said you was leaving.”

  I wasn’t surprised when he glared at me before he turned and walked toward the door. I was surprised Mitch was giving me a hard look, though.

  “What was all that about?” Mitch asked.

  “What? The guy showed up and caused a ruckus. I was trying to mind my own business until he made a scene. What’d I do?” The bartender handed me a drink, and I took a sip. A lot of nonalcoholic filler and a thimbleful of the good stuff. I grimaced at the drink before I downed it.

  “You know what you did.” Mitch’s mad was gathering into really pissed off. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “Sure. You lead the way, partner.”

  He didn’t laugh, but I did.

  Drama, drama, drama. Gimme a break.

  7

  “WHY’D YOU provoke him?” Mitch’s voice was low and seemed to reverberate inside Rita.

  Well shit. Now I felt like a fool. Glen was still somebody special to Mitch? Shit, I’d mocked him. Even though my opinion shouldn’t have mattered one iota, I’d stirred up something between them.

  “I’m sorry, Mitch. I’m the wrong Behr to be with in situations like that. Connor would have been charming. Abe wouldn’t have engaged.” I sighed. “But sometimes I get annoyed enough that I poke back. I don’t like conflict and pretty much try to stay away from it even though I seem to be in the middle all the time.”

  “Acting like you did in there, I’m not surprised.” He sounded less pissed than he looked.

  “Yeah, I know. I really am sorry, though.” I sighed again. I’d really put my foot in it this time. “I guess he’s someone, uh, important, huh?” I ran a hand across the top of my head. “Well, at least you can explain that I’m something of a joke, and you were just trying to be nice to me—show me the city, you know, that kind of thing. Then you can dump me back in Stone Acres, where I belong.”

  “I’m not mad at you.”

  I wasn’t so sure. I hadn’t known Mitch to be the angry type, but he sure had acted like it a few minutes ago.

  “I’m mad at me. He’s my ex,” Mitch growled.

  “Oh, uh, damn. How long’s he been your ex?”

  “A few years now.” He stopped talking for a second. “I don’t know why he showed up tonight. He never did like this place. He thinks the name Billie Jean is stupid. Besides, he runs from neighborhoods and families.”

  We rode in silence for a while, the city traffic building around us the farther we got from the detached homes. We were creeping up on the Marina District, near Cow Hollow. A grade-school friend who’d moved to the city had taken me on a tour of the area once when I was in town. He laughingly drove me around the Cow Hollow area of upscale shops and restaurants and told me I should feel right at home here since herds of cattle had roamed this area back in the day, before the big fire.

  Mitch and I ended up parked in an alley behind a place called Hey Jude! The second floors of the buildings around us seemed to be apartments, while the street-level places were businesses. We got out of Rita, and he ushered me into the club through the back door and an office. Then he turned toward the car.

  A short, curvy older woman with dyed black hair sat at the desk. Her sequined dress was bunched up around her hips, and her bare feet were resting on the desk.

  “Hey, there.” Her lazy smile said she was a good friend, not merely an employee. She put her feet down, slipped on the shoes beneath her chair, and stood. Her dress slithered down to midcalf. “I heard Mitch had a friend in tow.” She turned to me and stuck out her hand. “I’m Raven. I sing here.”

  Now here was a dilemma. As I shook her hand, I quickly ran through the woman rules Abe had pounded into me and Connor. Did I call her “Raven” or “Miss Raven”? She was what we in the country called “of a certain age,” which meant she was just old enough that I should be super respectful, especially since she was Mitch’s friend. But she was trying to look younger, wasn’t she? She hadn’t said, “Call me Raven.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Ben Behr.” I gave her a deferential grin and nodded.

  She giggled. “Oh, I know who you are—both from Mitch and from Glen.”

  “Ma’am?” I asked.

  She laughed again and patted my hand. “Now I know why Glen didn’t like you. You’re far too handsome and much too nice.”

  Mitch, who had a bunch of papers in his hands, walked up behind me as she and I were talking. My cheeks heated. I’m not a big fan of people talking about me or others telling me what had been said, whether it’s good or bad.

  “You talked to Glen?” Mitch asked. He handed her the papers, and she laid them on the desk.

  She cocked her head to the inside door. “He’s out there waiting for you. He’s hurting for a fight.”

  I sighed. Damnation.

  “You singing again?”

  Raven looked up at the big clock on the wall opposite the desk.

  “In about five minutes. Why?”

  Mitch turned to me.

  “You want to go into the club or call it a night?”

  I shrugged. “I’d like to hear Miss Raven sing. I can be civil and not engage. But it’s up to you. I don’t want to rub salt in a wound either.”

  He and Raven stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Mitch nodded.

  “You two go on in and have a seat,” she said. “Max Pauley is playing with me tonight. I think you’ll like our set. I’ll be out shortly.” She turned to Mitch. “Play nice.”

  As I expected, Glen was sitting at a table. Only this time, he wasn’t alone. He’d picked up an androgynous companion, a softer version of himself. The blond’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His eye makeup was bold. And his pants, even though they were bell bottoms, clung tight to his crotch and ass. But other than those differences, his dove-gray suit with pale gray shirt and gray boots mirrored Glen’s.

  Mitch led us to a table toward the back and to the side so that we could see both the stage, dominated by a baby grand piano, and the table with Glen and his companion.

  Mitch was grinning when I sat near him.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You see the guy with Glen?”

  “The distorted mirror image? Yeah.”

  Mitch’s eyes swiveled to give me a startled look before he laughed a little too loud. “Goo
d call. Anyway, that’s his distant cousin, Myron.”

  “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Myron idolizes Glen.”

  Mitch nodded as he chuckled.

  “I don’t get it. Is Glen supposed to be making you jealous? By being with a cousin?” Seemed like a pretty hillbilly move to me.

  Mitch shrugged. “Who knows? Or maybe I’m supposed to get mad since I never liked Myron. The kid’s a pretentious phony as far as I’m concerned.”

  As is your former asshole boyfriend. But I didn’t say it.

  Fortunately, Raven saved me from myself. She walked on stage in front of a good-looking, studly guy maybe twenty years or so her junior, who I assumed was Max. He sat down at the piano, and she stationed herself in the instrument’s curve. She winked at Max as she nestled in with a few wiggles. The audience gave a round of applause. Going by the enthusiasm, I didn’t think it mattered what she sang. They already loved her.

  LATER AS I stood outside by Rita, waiting for Mitch to drive us to his place, I wondered what would happen when we got there.

  Raven had turned out to be a sultry wench who stuck her voice in my chest and singed my heart with her torch songs. She sang about love and honesty. She challenged me to man up, stop hiding, and face the truth. She left me powerless with a longing for true love and lifelong companionship.

  She asked me why when I was a teenager I’d even tried to seduce a second woman when I’d known the first had been a mistake. She asked why I was so afraid of my family and friends getting to know the real me. She asked how long I was going to put on mask after mask trying to be someone no one ever wanted me to be.

  She ripped apart my carefully constructed façade and laid my chest bare with simple-sounding cool jazz songs. She told me if I’d let him, the sexy, silent guy sitting next to me would put his arms around me and shield me from my stupid self. She warned me that not only would I have to become my most vulnerable to let him protect me, but I’d also have to become my most powerful to protect him.

  Waiting for Mitch outside with weakened knees, I wondered how the rest of the evening would go. I was wrung out. More questions than answers buzzed in my head.

  How much would I lose and how much would I gain if I let go and was honest with myself?

  8

  “HEY, MISTER?”

  The kid had snuck around the back of Rita and was sidling up next to me, not close enough to touch, but near enough for me to see him.

  He was tiny, maybe four feet tall, wearing baggy jeans, a hoodie, and who knew what else underneath. His shoes made a weird flopping noise, so I guess they were too big or falling apart.

  But his face shone in the dim street light like that of an angel. He might have been a she, but I doubted it.

  “Yeah?”

  I turned and slouched a little against Rita, trying to cut down the distance between our heights.

  “You got some coin you can give me? I do something for you.” Looking scared as shit and tiny, he took a hiccupy breath. “Twenty bucks.”

  At first, I thought he was kidding. This had to be some kind of city joke. I mean, where’d this kid come from?

  When his eyes looked forlornly into mine, I knew he wasn’t joking. He didn’t have a clue about how to shake someone down. I had to be his first victim.

  Goddamn. What the fuck?

  A shiver ran through me, and I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Naw, kid. Not interested.”

  Now he looked like was about to cry.

  I reached into my pocket to get out a twenty, but then it hit me. A kid this size wouldn’t be out here on his own, would he? Somebody had to be working him.

  “Who gets the twenty?” I held it just out of his reach. I wiggled it in the light. “You want it or not?”

  Whatever his personal battle, he decided answering my questions was better than going back empty-handed.

  “My brother,” he whispered. “Yeah, I want the twenty.”

  I squatted down in front of him, the bill clutched between my fingers as I added another couple of twenties to it.

  “Okay. These are yours if you do me two favors.”

  He looked scared as shit. Evidently, other people didn’t offer him sixty bucks to do a couple of things for them.

  The kid stared at my hand, wet his lips, checked out my eyes, sighed, and finally nodded.

  “What I got to do?” He looked up behind me and broke into a grin. “Mr. Mitch! He’s going to give me sixty bucks!”

  “What the hell, Joey? What are you doing here?” Mitch’s voice growled the questions.

  “He said all I gotta do is a couple things.” The boy’s voice lifted in joy, but he still looked pitiful.

  The kid focused on my hand like a hunting dog on a pheasant.

  “What I gotta do?” His fingers plucked at his threadbare hoodie.

  “First, Mitch and I are going to find you a place to go tonight with a warm bed and a meal. Second, you’ve got to go to school for the rest of the year.” I barked the rules at him.

  “All year? But that’s like forever!” He stopped and clapped a grimy hand over his mouth.

  “I don’t care. You want the sixty bucks or not?” I glanced over my shoulder at Mitch, then turned back to the kid. “It’s now or never. You snooze, you lose.”

  He stared at Mitch, then me, then the fisted bills.

  His shoulders dropped. His shaking hand reached toward my fist. “I’ll take the deal.”

  I didn’t give him the money but put it back in my wallet. Then I shook his hand as the boy yelped. I turned to Mitch.

  “Where’s the nearest shelter or place where we can take him that’s safe and stable? You know somewhere?”

  He nodded and took out his phone. After a quick, quiet conversation, he turned to the kid.

  “Okay, Joey. You get to ride in the car. Hop in,” Mitch said.

  The door locks clicked open. I had to help the kid get into the back seat and fasten his seat belt.

  “Childproof?” I asked Mitch as we got in.

  He nodded, and the back locks clicked again.

  As we settled into Rita’s front seats, I asked, “You know the kid?” I tried to keep my voice down, but I knew big ears were alert behind us.

  “Yeah. Mostly his big brother, though.” Mitch glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s your brother? I thought you were going to stay put, both of you.”

  I turned. The kid was cowering and looked like he needed a car seat since he was so small.

  “He, uh, he gone. Split.”

  What?

  “Wait a sec. Thought you were giving the money to him.” I was peeved.

  “How long?” Mitch asked over me.

  The kid shrugged. “A week, maybe. I don’t know,” he whined. “I need cash to find him.”

  Mitch and I shared a grim look and didn’t talk the rest of the way to an unassuming two-story house in a nondescript neighborhood.

  “Where’s this?” The kid sounded worried.

  “We’re upping the game,” Mitch answered as he parked in the driveway. “You’re going be staying here for a while.”

  “Then I want my sixty bucks.” The kid pouted and crossed his arms as he glared at us.

  “Right.” I snorted and got out of the car. “Here. You can have this.” I handed him a five.

  “Wait! You owe me more, man!”

  “How much more?” I challenged, suspecting that math wasn’t his strong point.

  “Hold on.”

  After a few seconds passed, I squatted to talk to him.

  “Okay, here’s the deal, kid. Stay in school until you can figure it out in your head without writing it down or using your fingers.” I stood and held up the twenties, raising them high enough he couldn’t reach them. “Deal?”

  Mitch had walked up the porch and rung the bell. The outside light went on.

  “You cheat!” the kid squeaked at me.

  A huge guy who looked like a retired bouncer came to the door and was giving Mitch
a buddy hug.

  It took a while to get Joey signed up and entered into the temporary home.

  “Don’t you worry, Mr. Mitch. I got it from here.” The big old guy squeezed Joey’s shoulder, and the boy jumped. “We’ll take care of him okay.”

  Mitch shook the guy’s hand, and we left. We rode through the city in silence, me glad the kid was safe. At least for tonight.

  We pulled up at Mitch’s doorstep a half hour later. I’d never been so tired in my life.

  Mitch showed me the guest bedroom, and I was under the covers within minutes. I could clean up in the morning.

  AS USUAL, I woke early, having only had a few hours of sleep. But when what seems like a lifetime of getting up early and going to work is drilled into you, staying in bed, no matter how tired you are, doesn’t happen.

  I washed up, shaved, and got dressed in clean clothes. I took one look at my old suit and realized today would be a perfect day for buying a new one if I was going out to fancier clubs tonight.

  Mitch’s brownstone didn’t quite muffle the traffic noises coming from outside. I wandered around and found the kitchen with the coffee machine. After setting it up, I took a little tour, not trying to spot homeowner problems, but seeing them anyway. More than anything he needed a new caulking job around the windows. That and some double or triple panes would go a long way to making the house quieter during rush hour. It’d also help to keep his heating bills down.

  I was sitting on the tiny back deck drinking coffee and trying to figure out if there was any wildlife outside or if his minuscule backyard was just somewhere plants came to die. Mitch walked out with a mug in one hand and the carafe in the other.

  “Hey, you’re up early,” he said with a yawn.

  “Yup.”

  We sat in silence, looking out over the postage stamp–sized yard. Mitch had on sleep pants, and his bed hair and unshaven face made him look adorable, a word I’d never say out loud to him in a million years.

  After all the time we’d spent together, I was getting used to my mind coming up with weird words and feelings whenever I was around him. My het-o-meter had been steadily pointing closer to the gay zone, which at first worried me but now made me wonder how straight straight people were, not to mention how gay gay men were.