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Daddy offers a wink of admiration when I remove my head for some fresh air. “Well that wasn’t a bunch,” I admit. “But I must ask now,” I add, taking his hands to help lift me off the tile floor. “Does Island Daddy drink a bunch of pineapple juice or some shit?”
He smiles ardently. “It’s that obvious to a mainland boy, huh?”
* * *
“Have you seen my phone?” I shout over my shoulder, wandering the whole of Reid’s lower level. “I don’t remember where I put it last night,” I admit, scanning his living room only to realize we definitely didn’t spend any time down here anyway.
“Jesus—FUCK!!” Reid screeches from the kitchen, probably botching our breakfast in the absence of his personal chef.
He admitted that he’s without him until tomorrow afternoon, and that if I plan on staying with him until Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, we’re on our own where food is concerned.
“No Kragen,” he yells back over the sizzle of what smells like bacon. “God—fuck—I don’t have a clue where it is—shit oh fuck!”
I totter back into the kitchen, paying special attention to a forty-two-year-old man jumping back at what appears to be his naked ass contending with pops and cracks of scorching bacon grease.He’s utterly helpless, isn’t he?
“Get back Daddy,” I shout instinctively, pulling him away from the gas range. “You didn’t think it was a bad idea to fry bacon in the buff?”
A look of embarrassment washes his beautiful face. “Well,” he winces, grabbing an instantly raised splotch on his belly. “I think the last time I cooked bacon was well in the eighties,” he scowls. “God fucking damn it, this burns like a motherfucker.”
I click my tongue with a shaken head. “Give me the tongs,” I assert playfully. “What would you have done if we hadn’t met on Grindr this weekend?”
Reid’s brow raises earnestly. “Starved, boy,” he laughs. “I’m only cooking because I wanted to provide you with a balanced breakfast.”
Ten minutes ago, I sent him off to grab a first aid kit, wherever he keeps it. He’s so clueless without a staff of people underneath him, that even he doesn’t remember where it’s stored. Reid returns to the kitchen with a vanquished expression.
“No such luck, boy,” he frowns, wincing at the burns.
Luckily this is something I learned in Boy Scouts, before they excluded me from the association based on my homosexual thoughts. Since Daddy Reid has an abundance of aloe vera plants out back, they’ll be the next best thing we have to work with.
“Go out back, tear off a small leaf from one of your aloe vera plants,” I instruct him, transferring the cooked bacon to a plate. “I’ll teach you what I learned in Boy Scouts before I got barred from ever showing my face there again.”
He forms a frown at the thought that I’ve experienced the turmoil of being ridiculed for my sexuality. I suppose he’ll really come unglued if I ever reveal all the torment I endured in middle and high school almost on a daily basis. He steps outside to his patio as I finish flipping the waffle iron, cooking the last one for another minute or so.
“Okay,” he says, sliding the door shut. “Now what?” He asks, extending the prickly stalk as his other hand covers its excessively dripping juice.
I grab a clean washcloth to run it under cool water. After retrieving the fresh waffle, I shuffle across the kitchen to Reid sitting up on a barstool. He seems amused that I know my way around a kitchen.At least one of us has to be domestic.Daddy flinches slightly at the cool washcloth touching his burn splotches.
“So why was Banana Boy shut out from Boy Scouts?” He asks, almost biting his lips because it appears he already knows the answer. “Because you’re abig ole’ homoseshuallll,” he says in the most flamboyant fake voice imaginable, flailing his wrist.
“You got it, Daddy,” I nod, squeezing a small bit of aloe juice on his larger burn. “This should help the burns,” I assure him.
We’re sitting in the coolness of his air conditioned dining room, making small talk. Honestly, I can’t stop obsessing over having lost my phone. If I don’t contact Carrie soon, she’s definitely going to task every military agency in the islands with my rescue mission. Not to mention Candace and Tuti are probably worried sick because I never returned from hanging out with‘an old friend visiting at the same time.’
“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I ask, reaching my palm across the table with puppy dog eyes. “I usually wouldn’t ask,” I continue, but pause briefly. “But I have a friend in Nevada who’s monitoring my phone’s GPS location just in case you were like Ted Bundy’s reincarnated spirit or some shit.”
Fucking ouch. Why’d you say that? You’re gonna get a big ole’ spanking now for disrespecting Daddy Reid.A choke surfaces from my throat, meanwhile I grit my teeth from left to right.
His eyebrow raises. “And why would this friend think I were some crazy lunatic?”
“Ermm—you knowit is Grindr after all,” I stammer. “You can never be too careful, and technically I need to contact my moms as well.”
Reid winks from across the table. “Of course you can, but I doubt they’ll know it’s you coming from an unknown number.”
“Ohh no, I’ll call Tuti,” my head oscillates from one shoulder to the other. “But I planned on logging into my Facebook from your browser to contact my friend through there.”
A testy grunt falls from his lips, though he doesn’t reply. The heavy slaps of his feet against the tile on his way to the stairwell give away that he’s peeved about something.Why did I fucking admit that we thought he was going to murder me and dump me in the ocean? For God’s sake, Kragen. He lied about his name for almost a similar reason.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
