I scanned the street to see who was watching. People were going about their daily business. Nobody paying attention to the gay men who approved and practiced PDA.
Where had I landed?
Wherever it was, I felt deep in my soul I needed to stay here forever.
My usual misgivings about something being too good to be true and no free lunch had vanished. Where was my cynicism when I needed it? I’d been disappointed too many times in the past to be taken in by these two crazy, potential victims who had no sense of self-preservation.
Even as I warned myself to be careful, I worried they were either teasing me or maybe even luring me into danger. I searched both sides of the street, but still, no one seemed to care about what was going on.
Was I still in America? Where were the homophobes and bigots with their belligerent shouts of outrage? I glanced around. Nowhere. There were none I could see.
I looked again at the two men who were now grinning at me insanely. Something was going on. I glanced around quickly. Nothing. Whatever was happening everyone else here was in on it, but me.
Even as we stood here, was there a stake being erected at the lumberyard on which they’d burn me for my sins? I couldn’t believe it. Still, something wasn’t right.
We parted amicably. They strolled away, chuckling and whispering to each other. The shorter one peeked at me around his partner’s shoulder.
I shuddered, turned, and started walking to whatever the surprise was.
When I opened the door to the hardware store, I was greeted by Gloria Gaynor telling me in a hushed voice that she would survive. I bopped in response. “Me too, GG, me too,” I muttered as I walked up to the counter.
“Hi, there. May I help you?” The older guy behind the counter was dressed in well-worn jeans, black T-shirt, and blue-on-blue striped apron with big pockets. He had the happy, open face of a store owner facing a first-time customer.
“Hope so. I’m looking for Lem. Doc sent me.” I gestured toward the door and in the direction of the pharmacy.
The guy smiled even wider at me in surprise, his eyes starting to tear.
“You stay right here. I’ll get him for you.” He turned and yelled, “Brian, get in here! You don’t want to miss this!”
Then he all but ran toward the back of the store.
Well, shit and Shinola. Was it too late to hightail it out of town? What was wrong with these people?
Another man—Brian?—entered the store from a back room and walked up to me.
“Hello, there. Can I help you?”
Before I could answer, or actually ask him what was going on, men and women flocked in through the front door. They stood in clumps to the side, staring at me and whispering to each other, but standing back as if giving me space.
Was this a town ritual? Had they all been watching mewalk down the street? Had Doc set me up for…? When I took a step toward the door, they silently closed the gap, barring my way out.
I turned, hoping the guy who’d asked if he could help me, could…uh, help me.
Just then the original guy bustled his way through the crowd.
“Step aside. Step aside. Out of the way.” He said it like a litany, pulling someone by the hand behind him.
When he stepped aside, I could see the guy he was tugging.
Instantly, my heart and soul said this man would be the love of my life. He was gorgeous. Black hair and eyes, he was dressed in overalls, a striped tee, and Converse. As befitted someone working in a lumberyard, he was covered in dust.
He looked up and smiled at me.
I smiled back. I ached to fold him into my arms. We took a step closer to each other.
Then someone started clapping and the crowd took up the rhythm.
The noise knocked my attention on the guy—Lem?—back to the weirdness of the day. What the hell was going on?
