Page 3 of Sweet T

A duet with Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert faded replaced by the news...

The Supreme Court decision announced today made same-sex marriage a nationwide right. In a victory for the gay rights movement, the Supreme Court ruled in a five-to-four vote that the Constitution guarantees a right to same-sex marriage. The decision, after decades of litigation and activism, brought jubilation and tearful embraces across the country—

“Big news,” Rick said, turning the radio down.

“Yeah. Long time coming.”

“I’m assuming, by your tattoo there—” Rick reached out, lightly touching Evan’s firm, lower deltoid with the tip of his index finger. “That maybe you’re happy for today’s ruling. Maybe you’re—how should I say?—of that persuasion.”

The tattoo was of a rainbow flag, small, but obvious. Evan knew his answer would precipitate one of two reactions, either keeping him safe and warm or putting him back out in the elements. He opted to answer fast and honest with as few syllables as possible. “I am. And, yes, I am.”

“Well, all right. Good to know.”

“I hope that doesn’t change your mind about giving me a ride. This weather is shit.”

“Not at all. I’ve always been curious about sex between men. I never really had—”

“—the nerve? Like tattoos?”

“Yes.” Rick said, chuckling at Evan’s recall. “You wear your gayness well, Evan, like your tattoos. I don’t mind telling you either. We have anonymity, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say that.”

“Like therapy.”

This time, it was Evan who chuckled. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Are you flirting with me, Rick?”

Rick had both hands on the wheel. He inhaled, followed by a long audible exhalation. “Yeah. I think maybe I am.”

“It’s OK, you know. I’m not the sexual preference police. I also don’t kiss and tell, so if you’re worried I’ll out you, it’s not my style. Not that we have anyone in common, anyway.”

“Wait.” Rick loosened his grip on the wheel. “Are you... Are you saying—”

Evan put his hand on Rick’s thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I am. You’re giving me a lift. It’s the least I can do. Besides, I think you’re cute. The whole I’m-new-to-this angle is working.”

“Really?”

Evan nodded.

“I know a place,” Rick said. “It’s off the interstate, a few exits up. We can park undisturbed. Is that OK, or would you prefer a motel?”

Evan preferred Atlanta. He was hoping this tryst would not only indoctrinate Rick to the pleasures of man-on-man action, but might persuade him to extend the kindness of a ride all the way to the big city.

He glanced at the back of the SUV. “There’s plenty of room in here, don’t you think? Besides, I’m kinda in a hurry.”

One

“So, what’s next on the list?” Shelly asked, punching info into her phone.

“I want to get away from Sysco as much as we can. Go local. I mean, I know appetizers—poppers, wings, rings, and all—will be easier to get from a big distributor. But I want to go local on protein. Chuck said he’d set me up with who he uses for Holy Smoke.”

Shelly considered, her gaze on the crystal-clear water before them. It was ten-thirty in the morning. The sun was high, and it was already hot enough to fry an egg on the pool’s smooth concrete decking. “What about French fries?” she asked.

“Let’s do them in-house,” said Tucker. “Hand-cut. We can still get the potatoes from Sysco... probably all the produce. We can’t get that locally year-round. It’s the meat I really want to make the jump with. And the bread. Chuck said I can work something out with Brody for buns and stuff.”

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