by Pat Henshaw
And now, here, I got to see the house. My house.
“Do you like it?” I asked Max. “Would you change anything?”
“You kiddin’ me? I love this house. It’s perfect.” He looked down at me and smiled as he gestured around him. “Only thing missing is the forest. And you.”
Wow. Just wow. Me?
I guess I must have looked as overwhelmed as I felt, because he told me to stay put as he went to refresh our drinks. While he was gone, I got up and prowled around the room, finally settling on the bookcase. I was catching my breath, coming down from the shock.
I was surprised to see multiple copies of every book written by Stanley M. Greene. Going by the last name, old Stan must be a relative, though I thought Max had said he had no more living relatives. Or was Guy the one who’d said it?
Didn’t matter. All I knew was I was a big fan of Greene’s Guides to Sierra Birds in its various forms and editions. In fact, I had all his work except for the new one, which I hadn’t gotten around to ordering yet.
I took the latest one down from the shelf and was impressed that Max had a signed copy. Curious, I took the other books down and looked at them. All signed. How cool was this?
I put them all back and was paging through the newest edition when he came back in with coffee.
“What’cha got there?”
“The latest Greene’s Guide,” I said, holding it up. “Lucky you! You have the complete collection and they’re all signed. You related?”
I hadn’t seen Max’s blush in a while, but it was back in full force now.
“What?” I asked. “Why are you so red?”
He kind of smiled. Maybe smirked? Grimaced? I don’t know. He put our drinks on his desk and stood a little closer to me.
“You want a copy?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure! I just haven’t gotten around to ordering mine yet. I was going to get one later in the fall when I have time to actually read it.” I looked down at the book in my hands. “I really love the way he describes the Sierra wilderness, you know? It’s like he’s been up and down the paths and byways so many times he knows the area like his own backyard. He makes me want to camp out, and trust me, I never want to camp.”
I shut up. I was babbling. I looked up at Max, who was deeper red, but grinning.
“So, you’d like to meet Stanley?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
He took the book out of my hand, laid it next to the drinks on his desk, and stuck out a hand.
“Hi, there. I’m Stanley Maximillian Greene. And you are?”
“Fucking A. You’re kidding? Right?” I knew he wasn’t, but this was just too much on top of standing in a house I’d designed. “You’re Stanley? Fuck me. You’re Stanley.”
Again I ended up plopping myself in his office chair. I was shaking. How much better could this day get?
“Yup. That’s me. Stanley ‘call me Max’ Greene,” he said with a laugh.
My mouth was hanging open and my brain had stopped. Max seemed to find me funny.
“What? No questions, Fredi? Cat got your tongue? Honey,” he finished quietly with a little grin.
We had a blissful dinner. He grilled steaks. We ate. We stole glances at each other. I was still marveling at how he was an author I’d absolutely loved for years. Maybe he was just as excited he was living in a house I’d designed. Maybe. Perhaps. God, I hoped so.
EVEN BIGGER surprises awaited us on our first real date as a couple. The cabin was about half finished, and I thought it was about time we moved our relationship up a notch or two. Making googly eyes across the table was all fine and good, but wasn’t it time we really, seriously kissed? Or did something even more physical? Fortunately, Max asked me out on a date before I went stark raving mad and attacked him.
To my complete and utter shock, he showed up with a bouquet of roses and reservations for Sierra Bistro, an exclusive restaurant in the mountains owned by Jimmy and Guy’s friend Adam.
I was bowled over by the flowers. None of my friends nor I had ever gotten or given any to another man, only to our female relatives. I felt like a complete idiot as I fumbled around thanking him.
“Oh, handsome, you didn’t have to…. I’ve never gotten….”
“Never, huh?” Max laughed. “This is good.”
As I was forming a reply, actually just trying to think coherently, Max grabbed me and slammed our mouths together. As far as technique went, it was a dismal failure. As far as passion? Off the charts.
The kiss might have started with a bite of pain, but it quickly morphed into adrenaline fireworks and erotic passion and went happily uphill from there.
As we both gasped for air, lying on my foyer floor, flowers strewn around us, half-clothed, and nearly covered in cum, I curled into Max’s embrace.
“Damn,” Max sighed. “Should’ve brought you flowers a lot sooner.”
I started laughing, which quickly turned to uncontrollable giggling. Max held me tighter and kissed my hair, my cheeks, my face, and started down my neck.
“No! No, sweetie! I can’t take any more without food.” I turned and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t we have reservations somewhere?”
Reluctantly, we stood, went to the bathroom, washed up, straightened our clothes, and walked out the door. Max even had the foresight to call Adam, the owner and chef, and tell him we’d be a little late for our reservation.
“See now, here’s what a truck’s all about,” Max said as he shoved me along into the middle of the bench seat and leaned over to buckle me in. “You sit next to me and I get to put my arm around you.”
Before I could say anything, Max added, “Just don’t touch me before we get there. Let’s leave it until after.”
With that, he shut my door, walked around the truck, and got in. He turned to me with a huge grin. “This is where you belong. Right next to me.”
The evening crackled with suppressed electricity. Wild, high lightning struck across the cloud-darkened sky.
I shivered. “It’s fire season,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry.” He threw his arm around my shoulders, steering with three fingers. “It’ll all pass over. Always does.”
Max whistled as he drove up the mountainside, but I kept my eyes open for a flash that would ignite the world around us. Forest fires started by lightning might be a fact of life in the Sierra forests, but I never wanted to see one up close and personal—neither the lightning nor a forest fire.
At the Bistro we sat next to the windows overlooking the valley where the expanse of night sky with vivid cloud-to-cloud and forked lightning put on a spectacular show.
Something was going to happen, something bad, I thought. Even Adam’s marvelous cooking and Max’s wonderful attention couldn’t shake the apprehension I felt.
Max detoured by the cabin on the way home. I’d convinced him that even though the Behrs were responsible and trustworthy, we should stop by to make sure everything was adequately covered in case it poured during the night.
As we walked through the eerily deserted rooms—the kitchen finished except for the appliances, the bathrooms torn out to the studding, and the new sliding glass doors and huge windows still with factory paper on the panes—I again shivered.
“Don’t you feel it?” I asked him.
We were standing in the master bedroom, Max holding me in front of him as we looked out at the wind whipping through the trees.
“What? All I feel is horny.” He ran his hand down my chest to my groin, fondling me. “Can’t wait to snuggle up here with you in the bed you designed. You spendin’ the night with me tonight?”
He held me so close I felt as if I were just another layer of skin on his body. I nodded, letting him squeeze me.
“Can’t wait,” Max sighed.
The thunder and lightning around us threatened to let loose into a major drenching, so reluctantly we closed up the cabin, making sure the doors were soundly locked, and left.
It
was the first night I spent in Max’s house. Like the storm outside, we sparked and got much, much closer. Max was everything I’d ever dreamed about and more. I’d definitely turned him. He was as gay as I was.
By morning the storm had passed and the world was pristine, the clouds and gloominess washed away.
By morning the cabin was gone, reduced to ashes.
10
“I DON’T get it,” I repeated, staring at the bulldog fire captain in front of me. “How can a building burn down in a torrential downpour? I don’t understand.”
“Fredi,” Max muttered next to me, his hand running up and down my back. “Leave it.”
Of the two of us, Max was less upset about the destruction. He’d been stunned at first. It had taken him a minute to digest the news, but he’d finally just looked at me and smiled. “Let’s build it back. Better.”
I, however, wasn’t taking the news or Max’s seemingly cavalier attitude well. In fact, I’d started to cry when Fire Chief George Matthews had shown up to tell us.
Instead of embarrassment at being caught without clothes in the bed of a man who wasn’t really out, I’d giggled when the knocking started. Wasn’t this the butt crack of dawn?
“Don’t get up,” I told Max, then I teased. “Don’t answer the door. It’s just my ultraconservative mother. She wants to know if you’re going to make an honest man of me.” I was joking, but Max wasn’t completely awake.
“Huh?” He had rolled to the edge of the gigantic mattress and seemed to be trying to avoid the used condoms on the floor. “What?”
I sat up and sighed. “Okay. Do what you have to do. But I’ll remind you neither one of us work on-call jobs, so it’s probably just someone being a busybody.”
Max turned and stared at me. Finally he winked. “So I’ll just go to the door like this and answer all their questions,” he said with a grin and a shrug.
I pointed to Max’s morning wood. “Maybe we should do something about you and me first.”
We both started laughing, only to sober up when the knocking started again.
Max sighed, pulled on a pair of jeans, and trundled off to the front door. I followed more leisurely, cleaning up quickly before putting on pants.
Later, standing in front of the smoldering pile of wood and ash that yesterday had been the cabin, I let the tears fall. I realized for the first time in my career, I’d been personally connected with a remodel, so connected it felt as if I’d lost a relative in the blaze.
I’d known something awful was going to happen the night before, and now here it was smelling and looking foul in front of me. Was this a portent about my relationship with Max? Or was some unseen god chastising me for carrying Boner, keeping happiness out of my reach just a few steps in front of me?
As my gloomy questions threatened to consume me, Max bounded up.
“Foundation’s still okay, so we can get started building again as soon as the mess is cleaned up and new supplies get here. I called the Behrs. They’ll start carting away the debris whenever the marshal gives them the okay. They’re onboard to start rebuilding whenever we want.” He peered into my tear-streaked face and wiped my cheeks with his fingers. “Don’t cry. I’m glad it’s gone. It was my uncle’s. I hated the place. Should have known razin’ it and rebuildin’ was better than remodelin’.”
He swooped down and gave me a huge hug.
“Now we’ll have our own place. No clouds of Al Greene and his faggot talk hanging over it. You’ll design it, right?”
I understood, I really did. Still, the shock and finality of the fire, wiping away the transformation of my drawings into reality, continued to stun me. Couldn’t Max see I was in mourning?
“It’s you and me, right?” Max was starting to look concerned, unsure. “Right? You and me?”
I shook myself. This wasn’t about me. It was about Max. After all, it was his cabin.
“Yes. Sure. You and me,” I stated with conviction and kissed Max on the cheek. “I’m just sad about losing what could have been.”
“No problem. We’ll rebuild. Bigger and better.”
Yeah, which was the problem, wasn’t it? Did I really want bigger? Or was I wed to cozy and loving? Would I change anything I’d planned before? I doubted it, since I’d designed from the heart. Still, Max didn’t want to hear my moaning and groaning.
“Right,” I answered before Max could get uneasy again. “Bigger and better.”
I’d have to work it out for myself.
THE CALL from the fire marshal came the next day.
Arson.
Someone had torched the cabin.
“WHO’D DO such a thing?” I asked Max after we’d entered the Rock Bottom and been seated.
An angry contingent of lumberjack look-alikes were muttering. Were they giving us the evil eye? One table of five sat eating, talking low, and keeping to themselves. I noticed the leader, Steve’s son, a handsome raven-haired beauty, seemed to smirk as we walked in.
As the group got up to leave, the dark hottie coasted by.
“Heard you had a little trouble up at the cabin last night.”
Max looked at him and beamed.
“Yeah, Walter, God erased the cabin Al built.” As Walter sputtered, Max added, “Ya think God was makin’ a statement? Givin’ me a chance to erase Al’s hate talk? Make a new beginning?”
“Why, you heathen,” Walter began, but Max cut him off.
“Ya think God’s so close-minded you and your friends are the only people he cares about? Some god you got yourself there.” Max turned away from the man, who seemed to be a little older than we were.
Walter spat back, “You were burned out, you idiot! God’s smote you with fire! The Almighty’s talking to you, fag.”
Max laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, he’s shoutin’, ‘Start over without Al’s ghost hangin’ over you,’” he agreed.
Walter stomped closer to our table.
“No, he’s saying hellfire is what you deserve, you fucking faggot.” He turned to me in fury. “You too. You’ll get yours.”
“Fuckin’ faggot,” Max said on a laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up, doesn’t it, babe?”
Walter was shaking now. For a second he looked horrified, then he wheeled and stalked out.
I, too, was shaking and stared after him. “Was he saying he set fire to your place? Was he saying he’s going to try to kill us?” I whispered.
Max took my hands and held them until I looked at him.
“Naw. I would have introduced you. But why would you want to know Steve’s son? Walt and I go way back, just like everyone who’s grown up around here. He was just doing his rooster dance. You threatened the area henhouse, turned someone he used to hang with gay. Changed the pecking order.” Max squeezed my hands. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Fred Zimmer.”
“Fredi,” I whispered.
“Not when you’re a force of nature,” Max assured me. “Not when you threaten the natives. Then you’re all Fred.”
He bent and looked into my face. “Oh yeah. Thanks for not pulling the knife on him.”
11
IN A remarkably short time, my plans for the new cabin had been approved and the debris from the fire scraped away, even the loads of charred materials at the site. The fire break, the downpour, and the fact the fire had been started under the deck had saved the forest around the area. The cabin had burned from the bottom up and was fairly well self-contained. The fire had been extinguished in the heavy rain.
So with all the permits and local outrage from the Foothills gay and lesbian groups onboard, construction for the new cabin was expedited. The battle lines had been drawn.
“We’re going to the city today,” Max announced one morning. “Pack a bag.”
“Wait. I can’t just take off whenever I want,” I argued, grabbing my netbook. I was stunned to see the next three days blocked off my calendar with no notation. How had this happened?
I looked up to find Max grinning
at me. “Surprise. Got it all planned. Don’t worry.”
I looked down at my calendar and back up at Max. “How’d you…?”
He laughed. “Babe, you leave that thing open all over the house. You’ve been upset. Just wanted to cheer you up.” Max ended looking worried.
“Thank you,” I said, giving him a hug. “What would I do without you?”
“Good question. Go home and get packed.”
“For?”
“The play you wanted to see. The new club you’ve been talking about. Shopping.”
I beamed. “You’re perfect!”
“Yeah, well. I got my moments.” Max’s blush was back with a vengeance.
TWO DAYS later, after seeing the play and exhausting ourselves at the club, we were walking along art gallery row in San Francisco where Max said he had something special to show me. When I asked what it was, he got all shy and evasive.
“You’ll see. Been thinking about buying something since I saw it. Don’t know if it’ll fit into the new cabin’s all.” Max ran a hand through his hair as a couple of men walked by us, eyeing him as if they wanted to tear his clothes off with their teeth. Max, as usual, was oblivious to other men’s stares. “Course, it might not fit in with your plan. Don’t want to mess up anything.”
My lovely Max was absolutely adorable when he was indecisive and pink-cheeked.
“Let’s just look at this horribly awful thing and we’ll see what we can do with it,” I teased. “It can’t be all bad, sweetie.”
In fact, since we were walking toward a gallery I knew only too well, I didn’t have any doubts that whatever it was, it would be beautiful and I could work it into what I’d designed.
At D’Angelo’s, Max stepped in front of me and opened the door.
“Keep an open mind. It’s a little big,” Max cautioned as he gently shoved me forward.
Nick D’Angelo hurried forward as he saw us come in.
“Mr. Zimmer!” he greeted, then took a second look at the man behind me. “Mr. Greene? I don’t understand. You know each other?”