Foothills Pride Box Set

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2We had lunch, s*x, and another shower. By then I knew it was way past time for me to go back to the apartment and face the adultness of being thirty in a s**t situation.

I rode home on the back of his motorcycle, my ass stinging because my nameless bartender was definitely larger than my former boyfriend could ever hope to be.

Nameless had found me a spare helmet and a leather jacket that hung on me to mid-thigh. The wind whooshing around me as I clung to him like a baby monkey to its mother made me feel alive, just as alive as I’d felt while having s*x with him.

I decided I could love a guy like this if we got to know each other better. So far, I knew he was big, brawny, handsome, thoughtful, kind, and funny in his own way. He’d taken time to help another human being when I’d been down and out. He hadn’t asked me for a thing, not even s*x, which I’d freely shared with him.

My only problem? I had no idea what to call him other than the bar’s nickname or “the bartender at Stonewall Saloon”. He still hadn’t given me his name and when I’d asked, his answers weren’t very helpful.

We were lying on his wonderful bed, both of us breathing like we’d run a marathon.

“So what’s your real name, Alex?” I asked, rubbing my fingers through his chest hair.

“Why? What does it matter, Jimmy? You and me, we’re more than a name.” His fingers ran up and down my arm. I was lying on his biceps, slightly on my side. We were, for all intents and purposes, hugging.

“Well, for one thing, I don’t like to have s*x with strangers,” I pointed out.

“Oh, well, not a problem then. We’re not strangers.” He ran a hand down my chest. “You’ve been coming into the bar for a little over a year. We’ve talked most nights. So I’ve been getting to know you for months, which means we aren’t strangers.”

He had a point. It was the only gay-friendly bar around here.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. But I’d like to know who you are,” I added with a snuggle.

“I’m not a name. I’m not a bar and I’m not a town.”

What he meant was that even though his relatives helped found and name the town, and had opened the first saloon, also using their last name of Stone, he was more than the offspring of the first Stones to settle the area.

“All right. All right. I get it. I also know about horrific first names. Anyone with my given names—King James Patterson—understands.” I turned my head and peered up at him. “So you’re another one of us, huh? Got a god-awful given name?”

His smile was sad as he nodded. “Yeah, it’s a real motherfucker of a name.”

“Ah.” I snuggled closer and hugged him. “It’s okay. I know exactly what you mean. King James, remember? That’s me. You’ve seen my ID.”

After that, we’d gotten up, then had breakfast or maybe lunch given how late it was, gotten washed up, clothed this time, and now he was taking me back to my place so I could get my car.

Actually, I was rethinking the car. Motorcycles were definitely the way to go around here. I could see myself on some of the country roads, riding in the sunshine and sailing through a few hours of the day. Preferably with a big beautiful bartender.

I felt free and light as air. I felt alive after a year of feeling dead from overwork and a neglectful boyfriend.

“Well, thanks again for last night and today. I really appreciate it. And if I can do anything for you….” I slipped off the bike with a laugh and handed him my helmet. What in the world could I ever do for him? That was a mind-boggler.

He studied me, as if deciding on something huge. My hand moved over the helmet, caressing it. I started to turn away, trying to decide whether to go into the apartment or just get in the car and give myself breathing room.

“Hold on.”

His voice stopped me. I looked over my shoulder at the building, then down the parking lot where Alex’s car sat next to mine.

I was starting to get really, really pissed. I knew I had to act fast. Get in, scoop up my stuff—at least enough to live on until I could get the rest—and leave. If I stood still long enough in the apartment, Alex and I would end up getting into a shouting match. Then I would waste a lot of time. It was late in the day. I refused to have that damn apartment be my only choice for sleep tonight. And I couldn’t burden my new friend by staying with him another night.

He was standing next to his bike, on guard, watching me. He’d asked me to hold on.

“Sure. What’s up?” I couldn’t imagine what else we had to talk about right now.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

I shrugged.

“Don’t know yet. First I want to liberate some of my clothes and my kitchen stuff. My toothbrush, necessities.” I looked around and up in the light of late afternoon. “I’ll figure it out after I get my things.”

Anger rose again. I’d been about to break up with Alex a few months ago, but then my friend and business partner Felicity had this brilliant idea to expand our coffee empire into Old Town Stone Acres. A classier shop in the Main Street tourist area would be a real coup for us. I’d shelved the Alex problem until after the expansion.

Now I had no choice. I needed a break. I didn’t even like the guy anymore. Forget love. Forget commitment. Hello, hookup.

“Yeah, first things first. I have to get my stuff out of the apartment. Um, if you’re willing to help, thank you.”

“Uh, wait a minute. Maybe you should figure out where you’re staying first. Have you got somewhere that’s not your car?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a place,” I assured him.

Penny’s at the mall had a storage space of sorts behind and up a few steps off the kitchen area. No matter that the room was mostly bare with only a ratty old sofa, a table, and a couple of chairs and smelled like a blend of coffees and cleaning products. The room was warm and would be shelter until I could figure out where I was going permanently.

The bartender stared at me with a you-better-not-be-shitting-me look. A look I could meet with honest eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m good.” I tried to sound as confident as I could. I was still in a daze at how quickly my life had spun out of control. Not to mention how horrible I felt after drinking so much beer and so many shots. Even comfort s*x hadn’t made me feel all that much better physically.

Mr. Tall, Buff, Bald-Headed Bartender stared down at me for a moment. I gave him a small grin in return.

“Okay. I’ll come help carry stuff. Afterward you can buy me dinner,” he said.

That brightened me up. He would help me get stuff into my car, and we would have more time together. Win-win.

“Sounds good! Thanks, again.” I started to walk toward the building. “Follow me.”

* * * *

A mixture of s*x and stale beer whacked us in the face after I opened the apartment door. My eyes started to water. I was not crying because Alex had stomped on my heart. I really wasn’t. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as the saying went, and I kept repeating the words in my head as I walked to my bedroom, the one I had rarely slept in until recently.

Alex the Shitty Boyfriend strolled out of the master bedroom buck naked, followed by the stranger he’d left me for last night, a stranger who was buck naked, too. They were both covered with dried spunk and wore sleepy, s**t-eating grins.

“Hey, where’d you go? This was your surprise. You shoulda been here.” Alex took a step toward me. I put up my hands to stop him. “Hey, now. I brought Jerry back here to celebrate your birthday with us.”

“I told you. I don’t do threesomes. Ever.”

“Yeah, I know. But how do you know you don’t like them unless you’ve tried it? Huh?” He turned to the guy whose hands were covering his junk. He was flushed and staring at the floor. “We missed Jimmy, right?”

I ignored him even though I saw my bartender stop to stare at me. I shook my head. I didn’t do threesomes. Never had. Never would. Alex knew this. I didn’t want to argue about it. Especially right now. I didn’t have the time or the energy for rehashing past fights. I just wanted to get out of here with my things and put Alex so far behind me that he couldn’t see my ass when he looked forward.

“Yo, Jimmy.” Alex’s upbeat mood had slid south. He looked pissed now, like I’d done something wrong. “You’re not mad or anything are you?”

I sighed. Not getting into it. No way.

Alex was staring over my shoulder where my bartender stood.

“You didn’t need to bring a bouncer with you. Everything’s cool.” Alex took a step toward me and pushed me in the chest with his finger.

I moved to walk around him, but he shifted to stand in my way.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Nameless bartender put his hands on my shoulders and gently moved me to one side. He adjusted his full-finger biker gloves and stood in Alex’s face, which came to his shoulders.

Without any emotion, he grabbed Alex by the d**k and balls.

“Hey!” Alex yelped, trying to bat the hand away.

“Jimmy’s moving out right now, so you’ll have to stand aside.”

“Wait, he can’t move out. We have a lease,” Alex yelled. “And get your hands off my—ow! Damn! Stop! Stop!”

Evidently, Nameless was making a point.

“Gather your stuff, Jimmy. We’ll come back later for the bigger shit.”

I wanted to say I could take care of myself. But his element of surprise seemed to be working. I nodded to him and moved quickly into the bedroom where I started putting the things I wanted on the bed.

Alex was crying now and begging. “Stop. Please. Stop.”

Behind me I could hear my bartender say to the other guy, “Get a box and bring it in here.”

“I don’t know where any boxes are.” The guy was whining, fear laced in the sound. “I just met Alex last night. I don’t know where anything is.”

“I’ve got it,” I said to Nameless, really pleased to see him hurting Alex. The bartender had been nicer to me in the little while I’d known him than Alex had been in the last six months.

I went to the closet, reached up on the top shelf, and got one of the duffel bags I’d stored there. Quickly, I put the stuff on the bed in the bag.

Then I turned.

“I have to go get my clothes,” I told the bartender.

“No way,” Alex shouted. “Jimmy, if you move out with this moron, you have to keep paying rent. I can’t pay—ow! Stop it.”

I looked out into the hallway where they were standing. Alex took a step back, and Nameless pulled his junk at the same time.

Alex fell to his knees as the bartender let go of his d**k and balls.

“Oh God. Oh God,” Alex moaned, cupping his hands over his junk.

“Here, gimme the bag.” Nameless bent to pick up a discarded T-shirt on the floor and wiped his hand off.

I gave him the bag, and we walked away, leaving Alex on the floor keening.

Nameless headed to the front door as I slid past the stranger, who had put on pants and shoes. He was busy sliding a shirt over his head. As I got to the doorway of the master bedroom, I heard the bartender talking to him.

“Don’t ever come into my bar again,” he barked.

“But I didn’t do anything,” the guy protested.

“You’ll never do anything in my bar in the future either. I’ll have you thrown out.”

“But it’s the only gay bar around here,” the guy whined.

“Shoulda thought of that before you got mixed up in this.”

I could feel my bartender walking up behind me.

“You want me to do this part?” He asked it softly in my ear. “You don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.”

Alex was crying in the spare bedroom. I couldn’t tell if in pain or frustration.

“You’d do that?” I asked, surprised.

“Yup,” he answered, giving me a little pat on my shoulder.

He’d taken off his gloves, and the heat from his hand made me feel better.

“I could use a little help in there,” I admitted.