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I rolled my eyes skyward. He knew I was not a man who liked people in his space. I valued my privacy and downtime. How the hell would I unwind with some key grip—whatdidthey do anyway?!—slopping around my house? No, it was just not doable. “Stillman, think of how poorly it would look if the only LGBTQ person in the county refused to be hospitable.”
I glared down at him. “Do not go there, Bradley. My being gay has nothing to do with me not wanting some stranger sitting at my breakfast table eating my fucking crispy rice cereal.”
“You’re being more stubborn than usual.” He huffed and then glanced down Main Street. “Imagine what our country would be if every American turned their backs on those in need.”
Christ on a bike. He was speechifying. Damn politicians.
“Bradley...”
“What would this country be if we didn’t help the poor, the downtrodden, the sick, and the weak? We’d be a shell of ourselves, a watered-down version of this great land that we have grown to love!”
“God bless America!” some guy hauling lights from inside the trailer shouted. Bradley placed his hand over his heart and gazed with reverence at the US flag snapping over the post office across the street.
“For fuck’s sake. Fine, I’ll take in one person. One. Can’t have the good folks of Rockmount calling me rude or unpatriotic.”
“Excellent! That’s wonderful! I knew Rockmount could count on you, Stillman. I always say to Lilith that I’m always proud to stand beside you in pictures during Pride week and let the world know that you’re my gay friend.”
“Uh-huh. One person, non-smoker, must love cats, and they are not to touch any of my shit.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sure a big star like Mr. Gugliotti won’t need anything of yours. He’s traveling with everything he needs as well as a personal assistant who can dash to CVS if—”
My brain seized up. “Wait, what now? Who is...”
“I know! You’re so lucky. Several of the single women in town—and four of the married ones which give me a bit of concern given their marital status—leapt at the chance to have Dr. Rock Watson, that’s the role he plays inWillow Dale, stay with them but I suspected he would be happier with you.” He peeked around the trailer and then leaned in close. “He’s gay too, so, you know, you two can talk about gay things in the comfort of your little rustic bungalow.”
“No, I...I didn’t...no, I just cannot—”
“Paul! Oh, Paul, hold up, I need to speak to you about the day in the apple orchard planned for next week! Thanks for being a team player, Stillman, even if you do play for the other team. Paul! Mr. Gershman! Ugh, assistant directors are so uppity! Paul Gershman! A moment!”
Bradley dashed off. I stared at his back and wondered just how much trouble I would get into if I threw a movie light at his fat head. I could shoot him, but that would be a very lengthy prison sentence.
“Oh, Stillman!” Bradley paused by the fountain in the center of the green. “Tony is arriving this afternoon. He likes chocolate coffee!”
“Yeah, I know,” I muttered to myself before kicking the tire on the trailer so hard my big toe cracked. Ouch. Fuck.
“Oh, one more thing!” Bradley bellowed across the green. “Would you please run to the airport and meet his flight at five-fifteen? A police escort would show how much we value his being here! Paul! Mr. Gershman! Please wait, I have ideas!”
“But the airport is over an hour away and...” And he was out of earshot. “I’m going to put that on the clock!”
Fucking hell. Did I look like a damn limo service?
Christ on a pogo stick. Would anyone miss me if I just got in my cruiser and drove to Canada? I could be a Mountie. I looked good in red, and I liked snow and maple syrup.
Glancing at the chaos claiming my tiny town, I felt the urge to upchuck on my shiny black boots. Yep, the call of the RCMP was growing louder with each passing second...
***
Muttering all the way—itwasn’t even November yet and I was in no mood even though Rockmount now looked like the North Pole on steroids—I refused to jingle all the way, as I drove to Williamsport to meet my ex’s plane.
I was too damn mad to be festive. Mad and jittery. I’d had nightmares just like this. Me looking old, frumpy, and a little wider around the waist meeting Tony—who looked just as good now as he had in college—in some shadowy dream place. In every dream, he had taken one look at me, laughed, and strolled off to kiss a palm tree. I imagined he did that a lot. Kissing palm trees. Hell, maybe he was into rubbing off against coconut trees. Were those two different kinds of trees? Coconut trees had palm fronds. I’d seen them in movies. Didn’t Eddie Murphy drive down a palm-lined road inBeverly Hills Cop? Was it the first movie or the second? Were those coconut trees? I’d never spent much time away from the cold AF northeastern swatch of the States. What did I know about tropical trees?
Didn’t matter. The point was Tony obviously was more into palm/coconut trees than he had been into me. And now here I was hauling my sorrowful ass away from home and the ton of things that I had to tend to back there to pick up the palm lover.
Parking in the short-term lot, I lumbered along, shoulders up, glower on my face, into the small but tidy airport. Generally, there were just a few flights in and out, all going to the major hubs, and so it was easy to find where to wait. I got a few worried glances since I was still in uniform. Maybe the couple waiting for a flight to Kennedy thought I was here to pick up a fugitive. In a way I was. Tony had fled our relationship. Pity that wasn’t a crime I could arrest him for even though the statute of limitations had surely run out by now. Still, the idea had merit.
The arrival of a small jet grabbed my attention. Walking past a vending machine, I stopped to buy a roll of antacids and a soda and then made my way to a wall of thick glass. It took minutes for the ground crew to get the stairs pushed to the door of the shiny white jet, so I took that time to rip open the antacids and popped three into my mouth. Chewing like a goat, my sight stayed locked on the door as it slowly opened. My stomach began to churn. I chewed faster. A flight attendant appeared in the doorway and then...Tony.
He was chatting with the young woman animatedly. My heart flipped over—the feeling uncomfortable, to say the least. I swallowed the chalky mess in my mouth. He looked too damn good as he jogged down the stairs, a leather carry-on bag over his shoulder, his clothes casual but fashionable. No one else departed the plane. Tony stopped about fifty feet from me, his expressive dark eyes finding me through the terminal’s tinted glass window. He squinted at me, his mouth battling to figure out if he should smile or frown. Tony, being Tony, went with the smile. My tablets hit my gut a few seconds too late to save me from the churn of seeing that grin directed at me.
