Page 24 of Small City Heart
Patrick stared hard at Charlie, because they were thesame type, and he couldn’t believe that Charlie had let a comment so out-of-touch just fly on by.
“I know,” Kevin said. “That’s what I meant. I imagine there’s more artsy-fartsy stuff to do in a big liberal place than Small City.”
Static thundered in Patrick’s ears. He had no idea if Kevin had really meantartisticas Patrick’s type or if it had been an indirect dig at his sexuality. The whole conversation was tying him in knots.
Was this the kind of shit Charlie dealt with daily? Sexism, misogyny, posturing, and double-talk? Veiled homophobia?
“Small City has a renowned art gallery right down the road. There are artsy-fartsy liberals here too. I bet I could make do.”
“You’re known for your portraits. What would you take pictures of here? Wouldn’t you get tired of the Flint Hills landscapes and stuff?” This came from Charlie, which hurt more than Patrick wanted to admit. Charlie even shrugged, his body language screaminggolly gosh, how ridiculous to imagine Pattie Pearl back in Small City.
Blood thumped through Patrick’s ears, and his stomach twisted like someone had taken a blender to his insides.
Another man, one who’d been silent the whole time, stepped out of the group to hand Patrick a beer. He accepted it, slightly startled, and the man, who was a hell of a silver fox, gave Patrick a slow up-and-down that no one but him and Charlie could see.
Charlie scowled at the man and practically growled. The guy smiled and went back to his position, placidly watching as Kevin continued to be insulting.
The whole exchange pissed Patrick off. Whether it was being hit on or Charlie’s jealousy or Kevin’s stupidity—Patrick didn’t want to be there anymore.
“Thank you for this,” he said, holding up the beer. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my mom.”
Then he turned and walked away.
