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“I’m watchin’ where I’m goin’,” he says defensively, but then obliges me anyway and looks back at the road. “Watery flames …?”
“Uh, yeah, yes.” I apparently forgot where I am and who I’m talking to, rambling on like he’s a fellow design consort. I decide I’ve said enough about it all. “Anyway, I … guess I’ve, uh … done pretty well over the years, in summary. Someday I’ll have a piece of mine on the red carpet worn by … who-knows. Where the hell are we going, again? Feels like we’re about halfway to New Mexico at this point. Or actual Mexico.”
“You seein’ anyone out there in Cali?”
It’s a little annoying, how he shifts the subject so abruptly and ignores my question.
Also, I hate to admit that the dating scene in LA sucks for me.
Also, who has time to date with so many designer meetings, consult lunches, and deadlines every day of the week?
Also, I’m fully aware I’m just making up excuses.
“No,” I finally answer, giving in. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Bullshit.” Chad blows air obnoxiously out his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. “C’mon, Lance. Don’t let me down with that crap. There’s gotta be a million fish in your sea out there. Not like the pond here in Spruce, let me tell ya.”
“Well, of course there’s no one here in Spruce for me,” I throw back. “It’s not like it’s a bubbling-over teapot of gays.”
“That ain’t true! I mean, not anymore, at least.”
I roll my eyes. “Other than Billy and his big football star.”
Chad shifts in his seat and starts drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yeah, many more. You got Billy and Tanner, sure, but there’s also Trey who came out a while ago—the reverend’s son, you know him. He’s younger than us, though. Wasn’t in high school ‘til we graduated. He and Cody are a thing. Oh! You know Cody Davis, right? Well, Cody Davis-Arnold now. Him, too.”
I stare at Chad. Now I know he’s lying. “Cody fucking Davis?”
“Yep. Ain’t that what I said?” He snorts and swats the steering wheel, getting a kick out of my reaction. “The two of them have been the odd couple for a few years now. Can you believe it?”
Hmm. Yes and no, actually. “Jeez, who isn’t married in Spruce?”
“You and Billy really got the ball rollin’ on people being brave out here in Spruce and …” He takes a breath, drumming his fingers even faster. “… and just … makin’ that big leap, tellin’ the world.”
I consider his point. “So Spruce became full of gays while I’ve been gone?”
“Guess so.”
“Then where are all the lesbians?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. “Or the bisexuals? Or polyamorous folk? Gender-nonconforming? Surely there’s some trans people in town. Or is Spruce’s specialty simply gay men and nothing else …?”
Chad’s bewildered eyes stay locked on the road. His fingers have stopped drumming. “Uh …”
I smirk. “I’m just teasing. Well, partly. I mean, maybe we have every color of the rainbow here, but … all I’m hearing about are gay men this, gay men that, gay men married here and there …”
After a moment of thought, it comes to him. “Oh, hey, there’s a gay girl at Spruce High I just remembered about. I heard about her from Billy, who overheard it from Toby, a teen who works as a server at Biggie’s. Anyway, there’s her. Oh, and there’s also this girl Kelsey who recently moved here, a teenager who was adopted by the Kings—Omar and Tyrone, y’know them? Tyrone King used to be a cop here in Spruce, but left the force. There’s her. I think she might be into chicks. But maybe not. No one knows.”
I remember an Officer King. “Wait. Tyrone and … Omar …?”
Chad looks at me. “Oh, shit, right. That’s another gay couple for ya, a veterinarian and an ex-cop. See? Spruce is burstin’ at the seams with ‘em.”
“Bursting at the seams with gay couples. No gay singles, as you are so painstakingly pointing out. Eyes on the road.”
He smirks and turns back. “Though, technically the Kings live out in the countryside—like me. Right in between Fairview and Spruce. Hell, if my ranch was just a few hairs farther west, I could claim I live in Fairview. Ain’t that messed up?”
I wrinkle my nose. “And why would you ever in a million years want to claim that?”
He shrugs. “No idea. Fairview sucks.”
“Fairview sucks,” I concur.
He takes another left turn, then steers us gently off the road. The ground becomes uneven and gravelly, the tires grinding and skittering along. A wide one-story house approaches from across the field, small lights coming from its windows.
Something tightens up within me. “This is your house?”
“Yup.”
“You didn’t—” I clear my throat and clutch my seatbelt. “You didn’t tell me you’re taking me all the way out to your house.”
