Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon (Colors of Love Book 4)

by V. L. Locey

  “They put roosters in with the ones that lay the brown eggs.”

  “Dunny, we’ve been over this like a thousand times.”

  “Don’t want no rooster jizz in my eggs. If you gay boys are good with that then fine, eat all them jizzy eggs you want, but I don’t want them.” He crossed his skinny arms over his chest. Well, guess he told me.

  “Rooster jizz puts lead in your pencil,” I teased as we waited for the one lone light to turn green.

  “Got no one to write to,” he parried, which made me snort in amusement. Ten minutes later, we were at the lumber yard, and I was helping Dunny get himself up and out of the Tesla. I might have to consider getting a different car soon. This one, as splashy as it was, was not cut out for country living. And it was low so getting Dunny out of it was a steady problem. Maybe I’d get me a big-ass truck with four-wheel drive and a plow package. This way when it snowed, I’d be able to clear the driveways. Two soon as I was having one put in that would run down to the studio.

  “Here, take your cane. No, do not tell me you don’t need it. Take it. Thank you.” I placed the cane in his hand, eased him away from the door then closed it. The smell of wood was on the hot wind, along with fine particles of sawdust. I took Dunny by the elbow as the ground was uneven hard dirt, and we took perhaps ten steps when three shadows crept into sight. I glanced to the left and saw Joey Markson and two other employees of Chicory Lumber Supply ambling toward us. My trouble alert began to beep. Joey was younger than me. He’d been about four years behind me in school, but he was a Markson. Fucker still had that stupid teen rebel smirk that he should have lost years ago. He and two of his buddies were dressed the same, torn jeans, shit kickers, and blue uniform shirts with their name over their heart and the lumber yard logo over their names.

  “Look what we have here, the fag hockey star who’s banging the fucking game warden,” Joey called loudly. Thankfully no one was out here, and there was a saw buzzing around the other side of the large building. “Kyle lost all kinds of shit because of you and the queer you’re fucking.”

  I knew where this was going. I’d spent many years on the ice being taunted. Blood was going to be spilled.

  “You let me get Dunny inside and we’ll talk—just the four of us.”

  “You cornholed bastards come near my grandson, and I’ll ram this cane so far up your asses you’ll think you were in Cuba!” Dunny shouted, waving his cane at the trio of morons.

  They all looked confused by the threat. “Fucking senile old asshole,” Joey, who would be considered good-looking if he wasn’t such a fuckwit, spat at Dunny. “Shut the hell up! This is between your cocksucker grandson and me. That boyfriend of yours cost Kyle his job and his guns!”

  “Well, maybe he shouldn’t have been poaching illegally then my boyfriend wouldn’t have busted his stupid ass,” I countered, trying my best to edge Dunny closer to the door to the office.

  All three men sneered. “Faggot,” Fatty Frank on the left growled. “Queer,” Skinny Todd on the right snarled. “You fucking disgust me. Fucking fags walking around on the streets like they were normal! It’s gross. And to think I used to cheer for you when you were playing. Hometown boy made it big, give us all hope. Turns out you were just a fucking faggot.”

  “Okay, I get it. You all know a few curse words. I’m cut to the quick. Ouch. Why don’t you let me get Dunny inside, and then we’ll see how well you three deal with a fag?”

  The door to the office whipped open. I glanced back to see old Mike Miller stepping out into the sun. The trio of trash suddenly fell silent.

  “Problems out here?” Mike asked, rubbing a hand over his bald head.

  “No, sir, just making small talk with the local hero,” Joey said with a false smile.

  “Seems like I just told you three to finish sawing up that order for the new barn Dale Every is building. Might want to go tend to that,” Mike said, his dark eyes boring into Joey.

  “Yep, right on that. Have a gay day, Kye,” Joey called then strutted off, his buddies trotting along behind him like puppies.

  “Those three are inbred,” Dunny announced. I found that funny, Mike wrinkled his nose but said nothing. Probably because, deep down, he agreed. “What kind of idiot factory you running here, Mike? Your father would roll over in his grave if he heard an employee talking shit to a customer. Don’t matter if my Kye puts his dick into a man’s asshole or a gal’s bajingo, his money is just as green as yours and mine. I want a fucking apology to my grandson and half off my order for being verbally coddled by those half-baked jackasses!”

  Mike then fell all over himself and Dunny got his half-off lumber order with a promise of same-day delivery and five free pounds of screws. While it all worked out with no bloodshed, I can confess to being kind of disappointed I’d not been able to pound the smirk off Joey Markson’s face. I’d been called worse names and by far more intelligent people but having him run my sexuality down in front of my grandfather had really grated me.

  The ride to the farm to buy white eggs was quiet. Dunny finally broke into my ruminations.

  “You thinking about that half-wit Markson ass?”

  I glanced to the right. “Thinking about him? Not so much. Thinking about how people still use a person’s sexual orientation as a slur? Yeah. That pisses me off.”

  “Never been faced with that kind of hate before, have you? About you being gay I mean.” He pointed at the next turn, which I knew to take.

  “No, I haven’t. I can honestly say I didn’t enjoy it much at all.”

  “Wouldn’t figure you would. Maybe you should have cleaned his clock.”

  “Yeah, I was close but Davy would have given me shit if I had.”

  “Turn by the white mailbox.” I knew that too. “Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’s had lots more time being an outer gay than you.”

  I sniggered a bit. “I’ll make sure to ask him how he deals with being an outer gay.”

  “Eh, shut up. I told you my false teeth add letters to my words. Driveway by the green mailbox, go slow because they got chickens running all over the place. Kids too. Damn man don’t know how to use a rubber.”

  I came to see that Dunny was right. I wasn’t sure if there were more chickens or kids running around that farm. We got our two dozen white eggs but lucked out on the duck eggs. Something had gotten into the coop and killed all four ducks a couple of weeks ago. I was asked to send the game warden out to trap whatever it was as they’d seen signs of it trying to burrow into the chicken coop. I promised that I’d pass it along then drove home feeling a little silly about how every damn person in this county and the next knew about Davy and me. We’d not even really solidified this rekindle of ours in any solid way. Maybe it was time for me to nudge a bit? But when I did then he started pulling back. Ugh. This romance shit was hard.

  Around four the lumber arrived and was stacked down by the pond. I could knock this project out in two days, three tops. Then I’d have to get my ass to Detroit to shoot that next commercial. As I counted boards to make sure we’d not been ripped off, a funny little idea crept into my head. Maybe I could ask Davy to come along! That would be romantic, right?

  It’s Detroit, Kye, not Venice.

  Well yeah true, but there had to be romantic things for an LGBT couple to do in Detroit. The more I thought about this idea the more I liked it. We could make it a short escape, probably three or four days. Shooting the commercial should only take a day, maybe two. I’d nailed the last one, so I didn’t foresee this one being different. Perhaps if I wooed Davy in a fancy hotel and figured out how to show him I was really committed he’d stop balking and realize we were meant to be. Not sure what more he needed if buying a damn house wasn’t commitment enough, but I was willing to do whatever was needed to win him back. Nothing said wooing on the next level like some time in Detroit, right?

  Yeah, this was going to be a thing. I’d ask him tomorrow when he came over to work on the goose coop. Smiling widely, I went
back to the studio and began researching a couple of things to do in the Motor City.

  “Hand me that drill.” I passed it along to Davy then returned to driving stakes for the goose pen. Sampson and her young had been turned loose this morning and were now paddling around on the oval pond, enjoying the sun and the water. “How do you plan on getting them into the coop at night?”

  “Food.” I hammered a four-foot stake into the ground. Sweat ran down my back and neck.

  “Make the pen longer!” Dunny called from his supervisory chair a few feet away. I glanced back at the old shirtless man under a bright yellow umbrella. “Don’t give me that look. They’ll need more room. Make it longer. Down to the water’s edge.”

  “Dunny, they won’t be spending much time in the pen. It’s just for those cold days when the sun is out and the pond is frozen. We’ll bed it and they can shit it up.”

  “They’ll need more room,” he shouted even though he was maybe five feet away. I wondered if he needed a hearing aid.

  “We’re not keeping them all, Dunny, remember. We’re swapping the little ones for a gander in the fall.”

  “He doesn’t remember,” Davy said to the side when he walked past to get the hinges for the large door. The small one for the geese to patter in and out of was already attached to the building. We’d done a fine job. It wasn’t a huge coop, measuring only eight feet by eight feet, and just six feet high. I’d be walking stooped over when inside, but those dimensions had kept us under the requirements for a building permit so take that Mayor Ralph.

  “Yeah, I know.” He’d been having a few bad days. I hammered the last fiberglass stake into place and dropped back to rest on my heels. “Given any more thought to the Detroit trip?” Davy stopped at the cooler sitting beside Dunny, grabbed a bottle of water then let the lid drop shut. I enjoyed the view. He’d lost his shirt hours ago. His skin was a beautiful coppery gold and coated with a fine sheen of sweat. When he lifted his bottle to drink, I got to see muscle flow and a small glimpse of the black hair under his arm. I was this close to heatstroke, but my dick was getting all kinds of perky. Dicks, honestly. “Am I to take that silence as yet another no?”

  He turned to face me. “I didn’t say no the first time you asked. I said I had to check my schedule at work then put in for the days off.”

  “And did you?” I was being pushy. I heard it in my tone but for fuck’s sake, this not knowing crap was plucking my last nerve. I was more a man who acted first and thought later as evidenced by many really stupid mistakes in my past. But this flip-flop one day I’m here for this thing we have then the next I’m not sure if I trust you bullshit was wearing thin.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  He twisted the cap back on his water bottle then flung it at me. “Take a drink and chill out.”

  Crinkly bottle in hand I pushed to my feet. Sampson hissed at me. I gave her a glower then whipped my disgruntled gaze to Davy.

  “Look, we have less than twenty-four hours to set this up if you’re going. I need to book seats on a plane, make reservations at some pretty cool places to eat, and most of all I need to know if we’re doing this Davy and Kye are back together thing or not because this not knowing is making me fucking nuts!”

  “Lover spat!” Dunny cackled then tossed some wilted bits of lettuce on the pond for Sampson and the Sampsette’s. “Rose and I used to have some humdingers!”

  “We’re not spatting,” Davy quickly said then stalked over to where I stood. “We’re discussing things like two rational adults. Adults don’t push people into doing things if they’re not ready.”

  “Adults also know that it’s kind of shitty to string someone along. And for the record, this isn’t pushing. If I were pushing you, you’d know you’d been pushed.”

  “I’m not stringing you along. I’m simply trying to work out the lingering trust issues that keep coming up when I allow you to bully me into things.”

  “Bully you? Look, lover, I’m not a bully. I might be a little pushy, but I love you, and I want you to be with me forever. I’ve done every motherfucking thing I can think of to show you I’m putting down roots, and still you won’t give me a sign that you’re ready for more than wild, hot pig sex. Now, I’m asking you one more time. Are you coming to Detroit with me or not?”

  His brow was slick with sweat, his cheeks pink from the past two days in the sun, and his eyes narrowed. I crossed my arms and waited.

  “Do you know the last time I took time off for something romantic?” I shook my head. “It was twelve years ago for my honeymoon.”

  Oh. That. Yuck. No need to talk about Roland. “That was one bad trip…”

  The tension around his eyes softened. “No, it was a good trip. We had a few really good years, then he had to cheat on me with his golfing buddy and that little bit of learning to trust a man that I’d built up was shattered, again. And now you’re back asking me to trust you one more time, you, of all people. The man who shredded my heart into so many bits it took me years to recover. Can you understand why I’m constantly flipping hot then cold?”

  “Yeah, I can. I really can,” I insisted when his lips flattened. “I get it. I did you wrong. Roland did you wrong. Probably a hundred other people have done you wrong. I know it’s that way in my past. I’ve been fucked over a thousand times by various people, but I’ve not locked down my heart to the potential for a new old love.”

  “Maybe you’re more manly than I am.”

  “Well, sure, goes without saying as I am a hockey player, and you’re—” He gave me a two-handed shove that sent me stumbling in reverse, arms spiraling, until I landed in the pond with a shout and a splash. The edges weren’t deep at all and so I merely had me a sit down in some cool water. Dunny’s laughter bounced over the pond. Davy’s was just as loud. “And you say I’m pushy.”

  I held up my hand and Davy, the sap, took it. I jerked. He came face first into the pond. Now it was my turn to laugh. He grabbed my head and tugged it back. A massive water wrestling event broke out. I had me some killer Stone Cold Steve Austin moves to counter some of his slick Ric Flair moves. Soon we were lying on the bank, our backs on the grass, our asses and legs in the water, snickering and watching big puffy white clouds blowing by.

  I rolled my head to look at him. He had an amazing profile. A few gray strands could be seen right above his ear, the silver among the black sexy as all hell. I moved to my side, head held up by my hand, and reached out to touch his proud nose. His lashes drifted shut as I traced his nose down to his lips.

  “Come with me to Detroit. Let this be the start of a new us, Davy,” I asked on a soft murmur. “We can be so good if you’d only let us.”

  He drew in a long breath then let it out. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  I wanted to whoop and carry on, but I kissed him instead, long and hot and deep. We’d have laid there making out for much longer, but a certain irate mother goose showed up then and we did all we could do to scramble out of the water while keeping our asses covered with our hands.

  “…making this the first time a man in skates did the rumba. So, if you want to be as debonair as me, pick up a can of Peterson Farms Sparkling Cider today and be cool as Kye.”

  I held up the frosty bottle of apple-pomegranate cider with my left hand as I gave the bow tie around my neck a quick tug.

  “Cut! Brilliant!” Tony, the producer of this little sparkling cider epic, shouted. I tossed the drink to Arn because I personally hated the taste of it and skated off the ice. I felt like a damn idiot wearing a tux on the ice, but this ad was all about being suave yet trendy. A reach out to the millennials. “Only four takes! That’s impressive.” He hustled over to me, grabbed my hand, and shook it. Then in a whirl of people he disappeared. Never to be seen again until the next spot was filmed.

  I returned to untying my skates. Someone incredibly sexy sat down beside me on the faux bench that was part of this fake rink. The ice was real but nothing else.

  “You
look incredibly hot in that tux. Any chance we can keep it overnight?” Davy asked as he settled beside me.

  “If not I’ll go buy one.” I gave him a randy wink then tugged off one skate and laid it on my other side.

  “That was fun to watch, thanks for letting me observe.”

  “You’re welcome to take part in any aspect of my life, babe.” I leaned over to kiss him on the lips. A soft one but it held all kinds of promise. “It was you helping me memorize the script on the flight here and what little bit of time we had last night in the hotel that made it run so smoothly.”

  Arn came up behind us his smile wide. “You aced that. Well done!” my agent said, clapping me on the back. “I’m going to see if I can nail Blaze down for dinner. Care to join us?”

  “Nope,” I replied then bent back down to untie my other skate. “We had no time last night for couple fun, just studying and sleep. The next two days are all about us. Nice seeing you again. Beat it. Later.”

  “Nice,” Arn grumbled playfully as Davy chuckled. “Okay, I get it. Don’t have to hit me over the head. Time for the agent to roll on out. I’ll be in touch. Davy, nice to meet you. Hope you can handle the assholery of dealing with this moron on a daily basis.”

  Davy and Arn shook hands and off my agent went in search of Blaze, the director. They’d do a little dinner somewhere, schmooze, talk future spots, and then find some women. As for me and Davy, we had a full night of just us time planned out. First off, lose the monkey suit and change into something urban casual.

  With Davy at my side, we began our Detroit funfest at the Motown Museum, then we went to a hip little pizza and barbecue place nearby for dinner. After we were stuffed to the gills, we took a long, leisurely walk along the river, enjoying the greenery, merry-go-round, and a tiny lighthouse. Hand-in-hand we followed a path that led us to the Eastern Market. There we perused goods from local eateries, jewelers, book sellers, and produce.

  When we finally called for our ride to the hotel, we were carrying bags crammed with books and wines.