Love Is Free

The Pride by Shawn Bailey-1

The Pride by Shawn Bailey“Ah, what’s this?” Aldo Rossi asked from the front seat.

“What’s what?” Roman Lombardi asked the chauffeur when the car came to a complete stop. “What’s the holdup?”

“Traffic just stopped,” Aldo answered.

A few seconds later Roman’s calm was interrupted by the sound of loud music.

“s**t,” Aldo replied. “It’s a parade.”

“What kind of parade?” Roman asked, leaning forward.

A few seconds later his question was answered. Since they were near the corner, Roman got a good look at the people carrying a large banner. They were dressed in flamboyant outfits. Following them was a float of men waving rainbow flags. “Oh,” Roman said, suddenly remembering.

“It’s the Pride march,” Aldo answered.

Roman looked down at his watch. June 30th. Damn, he had forgotten. They were stuck behind the car in front of them and there were cars behind them so they couldn’t back up.

Aldo turned off the engine. “Might as well get out and watch,” he said.

Roman had seen many Pride marches before. They were usually held around the same time, in June. This year was the fifty-fifth anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising that happened in 1969. It was a series of events between police and protestors. It lasted for six days and fundamentally changed the discourse surrounding l***q+ activism in the U. S. Since then, rainbow clad activists and allies took to the streets in support of universal rights.

Roman took out his cell phone and punched in a number. “This is Roman. I’m going to be late. The Heritage Pride March is passing and we can’t get around it. We’re near the Stonewall National Monument on Christopher Street.” The march would continue to Seventh Avenue and pass the New York City AIDS memorial before ending at 16th Street and Seventh Avenue. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” He discontinued the call, then joined Aldo and the people from the car in front of them on the sidewalk.

Others in cars behind them did the same thing.

Another float appeared loaded with women waving rainbow flags. Behind them, a group of men and women were decked out in shorts and tank tops. Some were wearing tutus. They had unshaved legs and a lot of facial hair and marched to the Village People’s “Macho Man.”

Roman found himself singing the song in his head. It did not surprise him that the next float load of guys was wearing sailor outfits and dancing to the Village People’s, “In the Navy.” His brain sang that song too. He wondered how long this march would be. The sidewalk on both sides of the street was filled with people cheering and singing right along with music. Some were dancing.

Another group showed up dressed in short shorts, tube tops, and cowboy boots.

“Isn’t that the boss’s son?” Aldo asked Roman.

“Yes.” The little liar had told him that he wouldn’t be attending or participating this year. No wonder his phone just went to voice mail.

“Oh s**t,” Aldo said.

“What?”

Aldo pointed. “Trouble.”

Roman looked over at the parade. “Shit.” Dakota Julian was arguing with some hecklers. It all happened so fast. The next thing Roman knew a fight broke out. Before Roman could react, the police had come out of their mobile paddy wagon with their hoses and hooked them up to the water hydrant and was using the force of the water to interrupt what was now a brawl of major proportions between the march participants and the hecklers.

He saw when Dakota got hit in the face by the powerful spray. It went up his nose. Dakota was choking.

Roman broke out in a full run, trying to get to him before he drowned or got trampled. Unfortunately, he had to push aside people. Someone tried to punch him.

Roman was no stranger to fights. He blocked and managed to push the guy aside. He had to get to Dakota no matter what.

Though it had taken only a few seconds, it felt like hours getting from one side of the crowded street to the other. Once reaching Dakota, Roman swept the smaller guy into his arms, turned him on his side, and performed the Heimlich to expel the water from his breathing passages and lungs. It took a few seconds.

Dakota spat out water and choked at the same time. His lids slid back, revealing light blue eyes. Once he recognized Roman, he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips.

Before Roman could react, Dakota was snatched from his arms and handcuffed. “Hey!” Roman shouted. “Why are you arresting him?”

“The other guy said he started the fight,” the officer said.

Several of the hecklers had been handcuffed and were being carted off to the paddy wagon.

Roman managed to get his phone out of his pocket and himself back out of the street as the march started up again.

“What happened?” Aldo asked.

“Dakota got arrested.”

“Who are you calling?”

“The boss,” Roman answered.

The mayor answered.

“Sir, this is Roman. Dakota has been arrested. Yes, again.” He took the phone away from his ear. For a church-going man, Ernest Julian used a lot of swear words. “Yes, sir. I’ll go bail him out. How is this my fault? I’ve been gone for ten weeks and just got back into town.”

The mayor refused to take responsibility for Dakota’s actions. Maybe the man was right. Dakota always seemed to get into trouble whenever Roman wasn’t around.

“What do you mean keep him with me tonight. For what? You’re having company and you don’t want to be embarrassed by your lipstick-wearing son? Yes sir. I’ll handle this.” Roman disconnected the call.

“Still denying that this is all his fault?” Aldo asked.

Roman nodded. “He’s blaming everything on me. I didn’t make Dakota gay. The man wants me to put a saddle on Dakota and ride him hard.”

“Yikes,” Aldo said. “Does he understand what he’s asking?”

“Apparently not. Dakota is my best friend and I can’t take advantage of him.” It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but he didn’t think s*x was the answer to Dakota’s problems.

The parade finally ended.

Aldo and Roman got back into the car and waited for their chance to drive.

“Where to?” Aldo asked.

“Central lockup,” Roman answered. “You know the way.”

* * * *

“Julian, you’re free,” the bailiff said from the other side of the cell.

Dakota was in a holding cell along with some of the guys he’d gotten into a fight with. Despite the ugly names they had called him, a couple of them had been checking him out in that much more interested than appalled way. Two of them had made several wisecracks about his outfit. You would think they’d never seen a guy in hot pants before.

Dakota walked toward the cell door. Someone whistled.

The bailiff opened it.

Dakota stepped out. He couldn’t run because his legs were shackled.

Someone whistled again, then the guy chuckled. “See you later, sweetie.”

Gross bastard. He wasn’t about to drop his guard. He didn’t need a man bad enough to sleep with the enemy. It was a sure way to turn up unalive.

Dakota was taken to a room and given back his things, like his boots, his car keys, and his identification. That was all he had on him when he marched in the parade.

“You’re free to go,” another officer told him.

He was unshackled and let out into the waiting room.

It was hard to miss the exceptionally handsome person who waited for him. “Hey,” Dakota said. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Roman Lombardi stood, dwarfing Dakota. Even as kids Dakota had always been shorter. “When did you get back?”

“A couple of hours ago. We were on our way home from the airport when our way was blocked by a Pride march someone said he wouldn’t be doing this year,” Roman said in that condescending deep tenor voice.

“Oh, well, I didn’t plan on participating, but you were gone and I got bored.”

“Don’t blame this on me, squirt. What’s up with this outfit?”

Dakota looked down. “What’s wrong with my outfit? I’m covered.”

“Barely,” Roman said. “Let’s go. Aldo is waiting.”

“What’s he doing here?” Dakota asked as he headed toward the door.

Roman led the way.

Dakota checked him out. His best friend looked as good from the back as he did from the front. He had nice thick thighs and a hefty rump.

Aldo was waiting beside the car. “Mr. Julian, funning running into you here.”

His father’s chauffeur had jokes. It wasn’t the first time his father sent his chauffeur to bail him out. “Home Alfred,” Dakota joked. He was Batman and Aldo was his Alfred. He got into the back seat.

Roman got in beside him.

Aldo closed the door then got into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks for saving my life again,” Dakota said to Roman. He and Roman had history. He had been a very precocious child. That’s how his mother described him. And he would get into all kinds of stuff. Even though Roman told him not to do things, he still did them. He didn’t know why.

Roman, on the other hand, was a goodie-two-shoes. He was mannerly, went out of his way to help people out, and he was dependable. Even as a kid he was neat, kept an organized room, and always did as his parents asked. They were as opposite as night and day, but they clicked.

“What was I supposed to do, let you drown?” Roman asked.

“No. Imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw you. Where did you come from?”

“Aldo and I were parked across the street, and we were watching the parade when all heck broke out.”

Heck?

“Then I saw when the water hit you in your face and you were struggling to breathe. It was like I felt your life slipping away.”

Roman had an uncanny knack for knowing when he was in danger.

“I’m so glad you know first aid,” Aldo said. “Imagine calling his father and telling him that his baby had drowned.”

“You called my father?” Dakota asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I work for the man.”

“What did he say?” Dakota asked.

“That I have to keep an eye on you tonight because he and your mother are entertaining,” Roman answered.

“Ah. He doesn’t want them to know about me.”

“Yes. You got yourself arrested again,” Roman said.

“Like I planned to do that,” Dakota said in defense of his situation.

“The officer said you started it.”

“I did not. That guy called me a twink,” Dakota argued. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Ignore him.”

Dakota frowned. “I said what I was supposed to do, not what you would do.”

“See, that’s what I mean. Troublemaker with a capital T. Next time don’t dress like a twink, and don’t throw the first punch,” Roman said.

“I am not dressed like a twink. What does that even mean?”

“A tube top?” Roman asked.

“I like to show off my shoulders,” Dakota said.

“And your butt cheeks are showing.”

Dakota pulled at the hem of his shorts. “They’re not that short.”

Roman gave him that sarcastic-assed look. “No? Then your booty is too big for them.”

Aldo chuckled from the front seat.

Dakota frowned at Roman. “What time am I due back in court?”

“You’re not. They dropped the charges once they looked at the security tape. Apparently, the other guy did start,” Roman said.

“And you knew this all the while?” Dakota asked.

Roman nodded. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. And I need to go get my car.”

“Where is it?” Roman asked.

“At the start of the parade. In a lot on 25th Street.”

“Changing directions,” Aldo said. The driver turned and headed back to the parking lot.

“I need to go home and change,” Dakota said to Roman.

“You don’t have to get fancy for me,” Roman said. “I changed your diapers, remember.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re only three months older than me. Plus, I’m sweaty. I’ve been marching, fighting, and hanging out in a cell with strange men.”