Page 87 of Sass in the Grass

“Hold on, Lane,” Travis told his husband. “We haven’t owned the place for years.” For Jovian, he explained, “When we lived in Denver, we owned Chaps, and we loved it. Great people, great times, but when we started having kids, we wanted to raise them here, which is our hometown. I don’t see how we can help.”

“Gary, the bartender I know, his brother is the one running the camp. He’s a drag queen too.”

“Clitoris Starling,” Lonnie said with a chuckle. “She’s amazing, and True is too, her alter ego, so to speak.”

“Yes! So, you know! They’re good people. But, well, we were thinking about putting together a charity event for the camp at Chaps. I just need permission. I can do the rest. I think.”

Travis shrugged, but Lonnie threw a look at him. “Travis, you know this is something we’ve always done. Go call that ass, Bueller.”

“Me?”

“You know how to speakrich guy. If I call, I’ll yell at him.”

“You’re right. I should call.”

Travis got up and left them, so Lonnie moved over to the couch where Jovian sat. “You’re very sweet to want to help. The camp sounds like it’s a great thing for the community.”

“It is. I’m not usually like…charitable. I don’t even give to those Christmas buckets. But I have people who really care about this place that have come to mean a lot to me.”

Lonnie smiled warmly, and even in that empathetic smile, the guy was sexy. “That’s very sweet. Well, if the camp means so much to so many, we’d love to help. Anything we can do, besides calling Bueller, we will.”

“Thanks! Do you have…? Okay, I’m trying to learn to be less blunt and rude. But…”

“Are we rich?”

“Yes,” he breathed, relief flooding him.

“Travis is, and he always tells me we’re married so I am too, but it’s his money. I’m the town sheriff myself, but I can speak to Travis, and I’m sure he’d help.”

“Great! Okay, well, I’m going to do most of it, decorating and getting the word out. I have friends that do party promotions for their favorite DJs and stuff, so they can get in the crowds.”

“Wait, now, Jovian. Chaps is a private club, members only, unless Armand will okay it being open to the public for a night. I’d better go clarify that for Travis. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Not long after Lonnie left, the redheaded kid was back. “Hi,” he said. “Lane! He’s still here!” he yelled to someone.

An older boy, maybe eight or nine, came into the room, standing near his younger brother. “Sorry. He’s nosy.” He was the polar opposite of his brother, who was light-skinned and freckled. Lane had creamy tan skin and short, styled back hair.

“It’s okay. I’m Jovian.”

“I’m Lane Blacksnake Walton, and this is my brother, Dennis.”

“Nice to meet you both.”

Lonnie came back in and told the boys, “Daddy’s speaking with Jovian. Can you two go play in your rooms?”

“Sure, Daddy, but Uncle Dennis is coming to take us fishing soon,” Lane reminded Lonnie.

“I remember. Go get your old sneakers on and don’t forget to bring your jackets. It might get chilly.”

“Yes, Dad,” Lane groaned before the two left to head up the stairs.

“Sorry, they don’t see a lot of new people here. At their grandmother’s home, sure, but here, no.”

“They’re really cute.”

“Thank you. Their uncle is coming to get them soon, but they’ll be back by supper.” He sat again and told Jovian, “Okay, I spoke to Travis, and he’s on the phone with Armand now. So far, the one side of the call sounded positive.”

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