Page 10 of Reaching Roland

Roland cleared his throat. “That’s right. I’ve been in Kenny’s chair for over five months now. We’ve gotten to know each other, and I’d like to think we’ve become friends.”

I heard the question in that statement, so I nodded eagerly. “Definitely.” Would I date him in a heartbeat if he was into men? Hell yeah. But since I wasn’t dating anymore, it was a perfect time to make more friends, and Roland would make a good one. He was kind and thoughtful, and, unless I was wrong, maybe as lonely as me. Yeah, friends would be good.

“See, son. Kenny’s my friend.”

“But he calls you Daddy,” Cameron whined.

Oz barked out a laugh and hustled to the other end of the bar, chortling as he went. Indie’s nose scrunched up as he rounded on his boyfriend. “Are you twelve?” Shaking his head, he steppedup to Roland and kissed his cheek. “Sorry, Rolly. I don’t know what’s wrong with your son tonight. I’ll take him with me.” Then he beamed at me. “Kenny, it’s so nice to see you again. Don’t be a stranger. We should really get to know each other better if you’re going to be hanging out with my chosen father.”

I shook with laughter. “You’ve got it.”

Indie unceremoniously grabbed Cameron’s arm and pulled him away from the bar. Once they were gone, I swiveled so I was facing the counter again, picking up a menu. “Well, that was interesting.”

“You egged them on,” Roland accused, his voice laced with humor.

Side-eyeing him, I shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.”

Roland bumped his arm to mine. “I’m glad you didn’t. My son was so horrified.” He hummed. “You know, that was kind of fun.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “It was.” Roland needed more entertainment in his life, and I had no problem being a source of amusement for him, but his tone sounded so fond. He didn’t mean it in any kind of way. I knew that. He’d just said it himself; we were becoming friends.

We’d talked a little about my life growing up in Little Beach Bay, and he’d shared stories of Cameron and their lives through the years. More importantly, he’d told me about Rhonda, the love of his life. Even if he switched teams all of a sudden, I’d never be able to compete with the soul mate he’d lost. I needed to lay all these whimsical notions of the perfect silver fox boyfriend to rest once and for all.

It didn’t take long for Oz to return, take our orders, and deliver our food. Even though I didn’t spend a lot of time here, I never passed up a chance to get one of their burgers. They were big and juicy. Honestly, all of the food I’d had here had been top-notch. It wasn’t a huge shocker this place thrived. Potent drinks, great food, and a place for the LGBTQIA+ to kick back and relax without fear… the owner, Christian, had nailed it all.

I didn’t know Christian all that well, but I’d seen him from time to time, and we were friendly. I’d been happy when he started dating his boy, Levi, the former bartender. They made a handsome couple, and I loved a good age gap. The Daddy and boys who frequented this place seemed to be teaming with them. I’d never considered having a Daddy—despite how I teased Roland—but once upon a time, I’d wanted to be the younger one in a good May/December romance. At thirty-five, my chances of that were slipping away.

Roland laid his fork down on the side of his chicken Caesar salad bowl and wiped his face with his napkin. “That hit the spot.”

“It did. I’d have been good with a bowl of cereal or a grilled cheese at home, but this really was so much better. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. After a long day, you needed more than what you were planning.” He gave my plate the stink-eye. “Although, I’m not sure how much healthier that was.”

“Are you kidding? Daddy, I had a salad.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I did so. I put lettuce, onion, and tomato on my burger, and I had potatoes.”

“You had French fries,” he said dryly.

Grinning, I nodded. “The best way to eat potatoes.”

Roland huffed, but a grin played around the edges of his mouth. “So, what are your plans for this weekend?”

I pushed my plate up closer to the other side of the bar top and leaned on one elbow, facing Roland. Behind him, I could see Cameron standing at a distance near the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching. It was comical seeing the normally affable general manager be so extra. “I work Saturday, then my three besties and I have a video chat. It’s not always all four of us, if someone has plans, but we’re a pathetic bunch, so lately, we’ve all been on. But Sunday I’m going to HoneyComb Farms for the annual Strawberry Festival. I didn’t get a chance to go last year, but it’s always the first two weekends of June, so I’m not missing it.”

“I don’t blame you. I love strawberries. Who’s going with you?” he asked.

Feeling a little silly, I shrugged one shoulder. “Me, myself, and I.”

Roland spun a little in his seat, bringing his knees a breadth away from mine. “You’re going alone?”

“Yeah. None of my LBB friends can make it, and all my friends around here have significant others and families. It’s fine, though. I’d rather go by myself than not go at all.” I’d missed out on too many things waiting to have the perfect date. Those days were over. It was sometimes a little intimidating, maybe even a little lonesome, going places where there were groups of people together, but I was sick of letting life pass me by.

Roland rubbed his chin between his index finger and thumb. “Hm. Strawberry picking sounds fun. I don’t suppose you’d let me tag along?”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s a nice gesture, but?—”

Roland reached over and gently pinched the flesh on the side of my face, right under my ear. “I’m not offering solely for your benefit. My only plans this weekend involved fixing an old clock radio for a friend of Indie’s grandma and putting the handles back on an old trunk I refinished for someone. Both of which I can finish Saturday. I’d like to go to the festival, and I’d prefer going with a friend.”

Friend. There was that word again. Roland needed to get out of the house and have more fun that didn’t involve doing for others, and I needed someone to pal around with. Like, did I really want to go by myself? If I was honest, the answer was a definitive no. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind the company, but if you’re only offering to go out of pity, then don’t worry about me.”

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