The 51st Thursday (5 page)

"Then say what you came to say. I'll let you know what I think after. Christ, Shelby, just get on with it. I've got things to do."

"I went home after I left here. Not across town home--I live in one room on a futon in a big-ass house--that isn't home. I went to Montgomery. I went to have a talk with my old man. I came out of the fucking closet to my family at the dinner table on November first. My sister just laughed and said about damned time. My mother nearly fainted. My dad was furious. How could I ruin him like this? He was planning to announce his run for the presidency in January and now he can't because he has a goddamned faggot for a son."

"I'm sorry, Shelby."

"How did your dad take it when you told him?"

"I haven't. He lives in Arizona, I live here. I figure if he knows he doesn't care, and if he doesn't know then he doesn't need to. I'm sure your dad will get past it in time."

"He wants grandkids, my kids to carry on the family name. I'm supposed to suck it up and get married again, give him a couple of grandkids and keep my mouth shut about where I stick my dick after that. After that he doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Is that what you want?"

"No. I could call Rachel back and tell her to put me down as the baby's daddy. Hell, I
could
be the baby's daddy."

"Knowing Rachel, any guy in here could be the baby's daddy."

"Including you?"

"Including me." Deacon laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. For a straight up gay guy, you have the same bad taste in women that I do."

"What? She gives good head."

"Lucy gives better head."

"God, I know. Shit, Deacon, don't mess me up even more than I already am. I just got comfortable being gay. Don't spoil that for me."

"You are sort of strange, Thursday, you do know that, right? Shelby, sorry."

Shelby saw the corners of his mouth tilt up in a half smile.

"I love you, Deacon." He couldn't look at him when he said it. "I came here the first time because this place was bright and almost cheerful. I came back each week for the same reason. I continued coming after my body healed because my mind hadn't. I couldn't remember that night. Somehow, I convinced myself I caused the accident because I wasn't paying attention. Then I convinced myself I was being punished because I didn't love her the way I should have, because I didn't want to be a father. I kept coming because I felt calm here. I watched you and your staff, the regular customers, greedily. I loved the nights you sang along with the jukebox. Your voice made me feel things. And then I walked out of my office. I just quit. I couldn't take it anymore. I dodged my dad's calls for a month. I let my hair grow out. I rebelled in the only way I knew how. I just came to a complete fucking halt. Except for here. I came here every Thursday because I craved this place. I craved your company even if you never knew it. Then I caught you watching me. Something curled inside me, sort of liquidy warm and scary as hell."

"Are you finished?" Deacon crossed his arms over his chest, his face grim. Real fear shot through Shelby's soul. Rejection wasn't something he expected.

"Not by a long shot." He fisted his hands in his pockets. "You want to know why I stayed away for the last month, where I've been? So, I'm going to tell you. I went to hell. After a week spent with my furious father and weeping mother, I came back here. I put my house up for sale and I got a job. A coaching job with the university. I love football. I'd wanted to go pro, but I gave that up to be a dutiful son."

"So why don't you? You have connections, I'm sure. Make some calls."

"That ship sailed ten years ago, Deacon. I'm too old, too out of shape, and if I wasn't, then the accident took care of my throwing arm. The scars limit my range."

"Those are excuses. Thirty-three isn't too old to play, you can get back into shape, and the scar just needs to be worked through. Believe me, I know all about scars."

"So what if they are excuses? Maybe I don't want that now. Maybe I want a small life out of the public eye. I don't want to be a goddamned senator's son and lord forbid if he gets elected. That's what he wants. He never asked the rest of us. I want to be here. I want to play ball and teach kids how to play ball. I want to finish writing the goddamned book I started in May, and I want to be with you. I want to fuck you right now so bad it hurts. I want to wake up with you in the morning and fuck you again. I crave your kisses; I wake up at night wanting to feel your hands on me. I fell in love with you and I don't even know when. I loved you that night. So I ask you again, Deacon, are you in love with me?"

"Yes." The words were painful for him to say, Shelby could see it clearly, his fear, his longing. Everything he was feeling was right there on his face.

"That hurt didn't it?" He wanted to cry.

"Shit, Shelby, you have no idea." Deacon's chest heaved a little and he gripped the surface behind him as if it would hold him on his feet. "I've never felt like this. As if I'm going to suffocate, all the time, my chest hurts with it. I've never been in love before."

"Then we're even because I've never been loved before. Idolized and worshipped, but never loved."

"So what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I thought you would know. I sold my house yesterday. I'm sort of homeless now."

"I'll... No, that's no good, people will figure it out if you move in with me."

"I'll take that risk."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not about to deal with being the lover of the future president's gay son, Thursday, that is a deal breaker. Shit, don't look like that, I'm trying to find a way..." A strange look came over him then, his eyes going vacant. "Come with me."

He dragged him up the stairs to the third floor and pushed open the door. "I use it for storage right now, but this floor used to be a rental studio. It has a bathroom and its own entrance from the street. Of course, it needs some serious rehabbing but it could work. If you want it, that is."

Shelby stepped into the barren brick and concrete room with large windows. Dust made his eyes water. There was junk all over the place, but it was bigger than the apartment he and Holly had shared just down the street. "You don't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded. Shit, Shelby, don't make me beg. I want you close by. I want you where I can have you whenever I want you. I want to know..."

"You want to know what? Come on, Deacon, don't leave me hanging like that. I don't think I can handle it right now. What do you want?"

"I want you to take me upstairs and make love to me. Christ, I'm turning into a girl."

Shelby closed the space between them, pressing his body to Deacon's, his breath hot against his ear as he whispered, "I thought you would never ask, Joe."

And then he kissed him for all he was worth right there in the dusty storage room on the third floor of a downtown bar by the name of Deacon's Place.

Author Bio

Born and raised in the wilds of northwest Florida, I currently make my home in Mobile, Alabama where I attended the University of South Alabama. My interests are as diverse as the topics about which I write. I love to quilt, cook, and troll resale stores for bargains. I am currently learning to bake, but I don't have as much patience for it as I should. I write romance, spicy romance, spooky romance, suspenseful romance, and need an ice-pack romance. In my spare time... What was I thinking? I have no spare time.

mercyceleste.blogspot.com/

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