CHAPTER 18
Melinda
“Mely, darling,” Morri says as I trot down the staircase to meet him at the front door. “You have some pep in your step, girl. Did you get some last night?”
Sadly, I didn’t. Lowe was the perfect gentleman.
No, wait… I love that he was the perfect gentleman actually. I’ve never had that before. In this world of instant gratification and the looser morals of my generation, one-night stands are more normal than not. Hookups are done without a second thought.
But last night, laying in that boat and getting chewed to pieces by mosquitos—which I didn’t notice as they were chewing, but sure as heck did a few hours later—Lowe and I just made out in a slow, leisurely way. Very soft kisses, soft murmurs in between, hands wandering no further than perhaps a few stray touches on my butt.
God, it was fantastic.
After the lanterns had drifted out of sight, we spent all night back in the barn with Lowe teaching me how to two-step and watching some of the older people square dance. Lowe’s mom and dad were awesome and sweet and welcoming, keeping up a genial conversation all night. Catherine told me more about her aunt Angela, who was Miles’ sister, but best of all, I had heard stories about my grandmother. They’d never met because she’d left the area in 1942, not long after Miles died. Catherine hadn’t been born yet. But Catherine and Angela visited each other often, and Angela had talked about Miles’ sweetheart who had been heartbroken when he’d died.
I felt like a complete fool when the tears spilled out over hearing that, but Lowe helped me to play it off by pulling me out onto the dance floor so I didn’t start sobbing like a hysterical woman.
It was just a perfect night, as I hope tonight will be.
Pap made Lowe promise to bring me by for a few drinks this evening so he could officially welcome me to Chesty’s. Lowe just texted me to let me know he was there, and I’m actually giddy to see him. He’d spent all day out on the farm with his parents and some volunteers cleaning everything up from the festival last night, and then he said he had some things he had to handle, which would take the remainder of his day.
But then, he was so mysterious when he had texted not long ago. After a few drinks at Chesty’s, you’re mine. Don’t make any other plans. The Lantern Festival is going to continue.
I wrote back and begged for details, even threatening I wouldn’t come out at all tonight, but he just kept texting back, See you at Chesty’s.
“You actually look like you might be ready to squeal from excitement,” Morri says in critical observation as he takes me in with his fingertip tapping against his chin. “And since you didn’t readily admit to getting it on with Mr. STD, I’m going to think you didn’t get lucky.”
I come to a sliding halt in front of Morri, my lips curling up in disgust. “Mr. STD? Really, Morri… that’s so childish.”
He cocks at eyebrow at me. “STD. Studly, tall, and devious. That’s my new nickname for him.”
“Oh,” I say brightly at that explanation. “I like it. Just… don’t say it in public where others can hear.”
Morri doesn’t affirm or decline my request to do so, so I’m guessing Lowe is going to get stuck with that name tonight. I decide to let it go. Lowe can handle his own battles.
“You are looking very fetching,” I tell Morri. He’s gone urban casual with a pair of dark jeans expertly faded slightly at the thighs, a gray V-neck t-shirt, and the coolest pair of leather Oxfords done in gray and taupe. He looks fiendishly stylish but then again, Morri’s always been so, regardless if he was in drag or not. This outfit he’s sporting, however, has got to be the most sedate thing in his wardrobe. I expect he doesn’t want to be too ostentatious going into Chesty’s tonight.
I hate that he even has to consider that as a factor. Neither Lowe nor I would care what he wore, but the fact of the matter is, more people than not would never understand Morri or even try to understand him. Forget he’s black. He’s a gay black man in the South, and he’s exercising some restraint on his creativity and healthy ego by toning it down just a bit tonight.
“Shall we?” Morri asks as he offers his arm to me and opens the door with this free hand.
“I think we shall,” I say as I tuck my hand in the crook of his elbow. We step out onto the porch. Morri gives me a moment to lock the door before we make our way onto the sidewalk. We look both ways but it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. The town square was bustling today for church, and Sunday brunch at some of the local dining establishments, but it was pretty dead now.
After we cross over Wilmington Street, I squeeze Morri’s bicep with my hand and bring my other arm to rest in the crook as well, which makes me step in closer to him. “I’m going to miss you when you go back.”
He’d told me this morning that he was considering going back the day after tomorrow. Apparently, Morri had posted photos of his night at the drag show and Stephan has been calling him continuously. Not quite sure that Morri’s going to give him another chance, but at this point, he is going to soak up every bit of Stephan’s begging. If I had my way, he would just ignore Stephan, but Morri should do what will make him feel best.
“I’ll come back and visit you all the time,” Morri promises me.
“You’re just saying that,” I tell him. “You can admit you hate it down here.”
“It is a little backward,” Mori admits sheepishly. “You should have seen the people in the drag club last night. It’s like they never even heard of a red sequin before.”
“Yes, well, there is absolutely a lag time between New York drag fashion and Bible Belt drag fashion,” I say dryly.
“Truer words, girl. But all that matters is that Floyd and I had a blast last night.”
I laugh and squeeze his arm harder. Only my best friend Morri could get a grizzled redneck who owns the hardware store to go to a drag show with him.
We head down the sidewalk past Sweet Cakes, Trixie’s law firm, and finally to Chesty’s where I can hear the subtle strains of the Steve Miller band coming through the door. Morri and I disconnect and he holds the door open for me, which I think is some proof that a few southern manners have been rubbing off on him. It’s been the hardest thing for me to get use to here, but it’s also been one of the things I have loved. In the South, a woman doesn’t dare go through a door if there’s a man nearby to open it first.
The interior of Chesty’s is dimly lit mostly by what sunlight can come through the dark tinted windows and glass door, the lights over the pool tables, and the myriad of neon signs all over the walls. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but the first person I can see is Lowe. He’s standing up at the bar, casually resting his elbow on the countertop. Next to Lowe, Larkin’s sitting on a barstool adjacent to Pap, and they are discussing something with their heads bent toward each other.
A quick look around shows me that while the town square may be slow on a Sunday afternoon, Chesty’s does a brisk business. There are games going on at all three pool tables and pretty much every stool at the bar is occupied, as well as the half-dozen tables around the perimeter of the place.
I walk in between two of the pool tables with Morri following behind, my eyes locked on Lowe. It’s not my imagination, and it’s quite a heady feeling, that the burning heat in his look is just for me. While things didn’t get overly hot and heavy between us last night, I can tell that a slight change in circumstances and it could have been an entirely different ending to the evening. To say I am wildly attracted to this man is an understatement. It’s not going to be long before we move this to the next level.
Pap’s head rises as we get closer, and he gives a nod our way so that Larkin turns to look at us. She gives me a bright smile, but before I can even say a word, Lowe’s got his hand to the back of my neck and pulling me in for a quick but possessive kiss. I’m so shocked I can do nothing but blink repetitively at him when he releases me.
While we made out like young teenagers last night, he hadn’t kissed me when we got back to the barn. I just assumed that perhaps PDA was frowned upon.
Guess I assumed wrong.
I sheepishly smile at Larkin, and she grins at me more brightly, and then to Pap, who gives me a wink.
I make introductions first, turning to pull Morri closer by his arm. “Pap, this is my best friend, Morri. And Morri… this is Lowe’s grandfather, Pap.”
Morri reaches a hand out, and Pap grabs it for a hearty shake. “Welcome to Chesty’s. Heard a lot about you.”
“Oh, you mean you’ve heard all about how your grandson and I love to torture each other with pranks?” Morri asks with his necktitude going full steam.
Pap gives sort of a half chuckle/half snort, his eyes sparkling when he tells Morri, “I personally think the mayonnaise in the doughnuts was the best.”
“It sure was, wasn’t it?” Morri says as he slides in between Lowe and Larkin, leaning a little around Larkin to continue talking to Pap. This effectively pushes Lowe away from the bar, which is fine by me because it pushes him closer my way. “I tried to talk Floyd into teaching me how to cut Lowe’s brake line, but I was told that that might be a little too much.”
This time, Pap throws his head back and laughs hysterically at the thought. I just roll my eyes and figure Morri is in good company so I can give some attention to the hot man who’s standing right beside me.
“Long day?” I ask Lowe.
He was working outdoors for most of the day, and it was brutally hot. Because he spends a lot of days outdoors, his skin is naturally a dark golden brown, but I can see some red across his nose and cheeks indicating he probably had an overdose of sun today.
“I’m a little tired,” he admits but then adds on to say, “But the Lantern Festival is always worth the hard work. Especially this year.”
“Why this year?”
“Well, this year was especially fun because I got to watch the lanterns in a boat on the lake with the prettiest, sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”
I’m utterly charmed by his words because they are sincere even though he has a hint of amusement in his tone. I can’t help but tease, “Am I really the first girl you had on that lake during the Lantern Festival? You told me it was the best seat in the house, so you clearly have some experience out there.”
I get a hearty laugh in return from Lowe. “Trust me, you’re the first girl. But Pap used to take us kids out on a boat when we were younger, and we thought that was pretty darn cool. Like we were special or something.”
“Well, I think your entire family is pretty special,” I tell him truthfully. Last night was one of the most fun, relaxing evenings I’ve had since I can even remember. Well, the kissing wasn’t relaxing, but I sure was liking the way it felt.
“What do you and Morri want to drink?” Lowe asks.
“Does Pap serve wine?” I inquire.
“He serves red or white,” Lowe says.
“What types of red?”
Lowe laughs at me. “Only one kind of those. Red.”
Now it’s me who laughs because I can see Pap only carrying one kind of red and one kind of white. This doesn’t seem like the type of bar that would serve wine at all.
“I’ll actually take whatever beer you’re having, but I know Morri will want wine so get him the red.”
Lowe turns away from me for a moment to order the drinks. When he turns back to me, he explains, “Chesty’s is where you go to get beer and liquor. If you want wine, you go to Miller’s gas station. He and Pap have sort of an informal agreement not to infringe on each other’s territory. But Pap will carry a basic selection of wine and Jason will carry a basic selection of beer. If you want something out of the ordinary, you have to go to their respective businesses.”
“Makes sense to me.”
The bartender quickly has our drinks, and Lowe passes them out. Morri is still a little miffed at Lowe for the red-dye prank, but he mutters a “thank you”.
“You up for a game of pool?” Lowe asks me. “We can play teams. You and Morri against me and Larkin?”
I give Lowe an admonishing look and slap the back of my hand against his stomach. “You and Larkin probably grew up in this bar playing pool. Morri and I are from Manhattan. The only thing we know how to do in a bar is drink a fifteen-dollar martini. I don’t think that seems fair.”
“Even better,” Lowe says as he leans in and whispers in my ear. “You and me against Morri and Larkin. That way, I can get up close to you to teach you how to shoot.”
Oh, wow. That sounds nice, especially that sexy little rumble to his voice.
I turn toward Morri, who is in a deep discussion with Pap and Larkin, and call out, “Morri… get your booty over here. We’re going to play some pool.”
Morri looks at me and says, “I have no clue how to play pool.”
Larkin jumps off her stool and takes Morri by the elbow. “No worries. We’ll teach you.”
It takes about fifteen minutes for one of the pool tables to open after Lowe had claimed interest in it by placing two quarters on the edge. After explaining the rules to Morri and me, he and Larkin took their time to teach us the mechanics and the angles of how to shoot. Because Morri and I were equally dreadful, it was a close game, but Lowe and I managed to win by one shot.
We start our second game, and I’m surprised that it gets a little easier to play. This might have something to do with the fact that Lowe reminds me to take my time with my shots as well as to imagine a line coming from the back of the pocket I’m aiming at and extending directly through the ball, which helped my aim. But the best piece of advice he gave me, and where I really started to make my shots, was when he told me not to look at the cue ball but to focus on the ball I’m aiming for. That made a complete world of difference to me. In the second game, he and I sort of kicked Larkin and Morri’s butt. In fairness to Larkin though, Morri wasn’t really all that into playing. He did it to be part of the crowd, but he’s never been into sports or games of any sort.
“It true you wear women’s clothing?” a very twangy, male voice asks from behind our group.
Every muscle in my body immediately tenses as I turn to face the bar. Two men are standing there holding mugs of beer with huge smirks on their face. They’re nondescript other than they look like ordinary joe’s. They’re both staring straight at Morri.
Morri may not visit the deep South very often, but it’s not the first time someone has made fun of him and what they do not understand. He holds himself almost regally as he replies in a calm voice, “I wear gowns and other fancy female clothing when I’m on stage.”
Both men snicker. The one guy asks, “You wear frilly panties underneath?”
It’s clear these guys are drunk. It’s also clear they are intent on humiliating Morri. While I know Morri can hold his own, I don’t want him to have to. He’s here in my new town where I intend to live at least part of the year, and I’m not about to have these jackasses run my friend off.
I open my mouth even as I take a menacing step toward the two brutes, but I snap it shut because just as quickly, Lowe beats me to them. He’s suddenly in their faces and backing them up into the barstools they’re standing in front of.
“I’m telling you right now, Gill,” Lowe says in a deep, rumbling voice filled with the promise of retribution. “You say one more inappropriate word to my friend… and I’m not even going to bother to drag you out of here to beat your ass. I’m going to do it right here in front of everybody.”
My mouth drops open and my eyes slide over to Morri, who is looking at Lowe with a funny expression on his face.
My gaze swings back though when the guy named Gill narrows his eyes at Lowe and taunts, “He your boyfriend or something?”
The other guy thinks this is hilarious and snickers raunchily.
I expected that would have been a fighting challenge, but Lowe merely gets a lazy smile on his face and leans in toward Gil. “Why? You jealous?”
“I ain’t no damn fag—”
That’s as much as he gets out of his mouth, because Lowe’s fist is slamming into it. The guy’s head snaps backward, before popping forward where Lowe hits him again, harder this time. Gill’s head snaps back again and his knees start to wobble.
Gill’s friend manages to catch him around the waist to help hold him up as blood starts to trickle out of his mouth from what looks like a split lip.
I’m terrified these two guys are now going to go after Lowe, but Pap is suddenly standing there. He merely points to the door while talking to the men in a measured, no-nonsense voice. “You two get the hell out of here and don’t ever come back unless you decide to learn some manners. This bar is open to all, and everyone is welcome to drink here in peace.”
I really want to go hug Pap right now, but he’s not finished.
Looking around the bar, he raises his voice and calls out, “If anyone else here has a problem with my friend Morri, finish your beer up and get the hell out. Don’t bother coming back either.”
No one moves and no one says a word, the only sound coming from Tom Petty playing on the jukebox.
Gill and his friend slink out of the bar. The minute the door is closed, everybody resumes talking again.
Not one other person leaves.
Pap looks at Morri a long moment, and Morri gives him a nod of thanks as well as a smile to indicate he’s okay. Pap nods back and heads to his stool as cool as a cucumber.
Then Morri turns to Lowe as he inclines his head like the Queen of England giving notice to one of her subjects. “I’ve decided not to cut your brake lines. We’re even.”
“Obliged,” Lowe says with a grin, and then he moves on as if nothing significant happened. “Let’s play another game of pool.”