by Jeff Mann
“Holy as you supposedly are, what need would you have of genitals anyway? Your flesh-hating faith has turned you against the teeming beauties and blessings of this sensual world. You speak of Lucas’s blasphemous behavior? There is nothing blasphemous about this boy. Be sure of it. There’s nothing blasphemous about the bodily pleasures these two men might take together. No, what’s unmitigated blasphemy is your attitude toward this universe of wonders that God has made. That’s blasphemy.”
Amie raised a black-gloved hand and pointed it at the minister, as if aiming her gun at the space between his eyes. She took a step forward, and immediately Davis took a step back, as if they were rehearsing a dance move together.
“Even more blasphemous is that you, like so many conservative Christians, have taken a religion of compassion and perverted it. You have twisted it into a weapon of viciousness, persecution, and exclusion. You’ve used it to try to close our store and turn the county against us. Now you’re using it to try to make this sweet-souled young man suffer. I assure you, he has suffered enough. Christ didn’t torment the suffering, Reverend. He consoled them. How could you have forgotten that? You are the pervert, Reverend Davis, not we.”
Davis gulped in deep breaths, his face red and his eyes bulging. “You-you’re a foul slut. You have a history of harlotry. Why should I—”
“You’re devoted to those Old Testament slurs, aren’t you?” Amie sighed, fluttering her gloved fingers in his face. “I’m neither slut nor harlot. I’m a woman who celebrates her appetites and her body. I’m a woman who cherishes the world because of all it gives us to love. There is so much to love, Reverend Davis. A man of your profession should be sharply aware of that. The cosmos is full of gifts both spiritual and corporeal. These men together have found a profound gift. Grace and I together have found a profound gift. Yet you would seek to hound and harass us. Just as your kind have hounded and harassed gays and lesbians for centuries. You spread the spores of misery like some stubborn fungus. You seek to make outcasts out of anyone who doesn’t subscribe to your vicious faith.”
“Vicious? You madwoman! You heretical—”
“Silence, reverend! I have only one thing left to say.” Amie lifted off her hat and shook out her long black hair. Her voice rose yet again. “Perhaps God is as hateful as you think. Perhaps He is! And if He is, if He is as dedicated to punishment and reprisal as you believe, then you have a terrible day of doom coming. I can foresee it, yes.”
Amie stepped closer to Davis. To Brice’s relief, she tucked her purse into her coat pocket before gesticulating dramatically against the falling snow.
“Yes! I predict your end! Ignominious, and excruciating, and soon. Soon! Your selfishness, egotism and cruelty will be crushed. God will hold you like a loathsome spider above the pit of His wrath.”
“No! You’re insane!” Davis’s red face paled. “I’m God’s servant!”
“No! You’re His foe! You have intimidated and threatened and connived. You have turned fathers against daughters and mothers against sons. You have fomented wrath rather than love.”
Amie stepped forward, stabbing him in the chest with her right forefinger. “He will exact an agonizing chastisement! Before Him, all those you have tormented will speak against you. See their faces! So many. So many. All those you have wronged! A long, long line of sad shades and spectral outcasts.”
“I’ve wronged no one! I speak for the Lord.”
“You speak lies! The Lord says you lie! On the Day of Judgment, angels will separate the chaff from the wheat and the goats from the sheep and the cruel from the kind! And you, you—”
“No. Shut up!” Davis moaned. Big as he was, he visibly quailed in the face of this small woman’s stentorian wrath. About them, four of the last parade participants had gathered, mouths agape.
“You shall be cast into the Lake of Fire. Serpents will feast on your fatty flesh. Gouts of flame will incinerate your bones!”
“Shut up!” Davis howled, taking another step back. He ran a hand over his bald pate as if he were sweating despite the wintry night.
“You must hear the truth! You need to hear it! You know what I say is true! What woes you have caused! Innumerable woes! Confess it!”
“No. No!”
“Yes! You think you can dissemble before God, who knows and sees all? And now you must pay the price! Soon your intestines will be gnawed by ravenous lizards. Soon vipers will intertwine about your spine. Soon vultures and kites, the rapacious birds of the air, will feast on your eyeballs, snapping them between the sharp edges of their beaks as if they were tender grapes.”
“No. What outrageous falsehoods. Stop it! No!”
“Yes. Yes! I see it so clearly! And then, most horribly, behold! The Beast of Revelation, that slouching horror, with its many heads and its many horns, will rise from the churning deep to take its turn, to sate its hideous hunger. Feel it now! Feel its clammy limbs embrace you. Feel its teeth devouring the throbbing mass of—”
“Shut up!” Davis screamed, his eyes wide with panic. “No! I won’t listen to this. I refuse to listen to this. Too horrible! No!”
“Horrible, yes! Feel the beast’s fangs sink deep into the rotten tissue of your heart, black and dripping gobbets that it will—”
Amie’s next delicious detail was drowned out by Davis’s scream. Clasping his hands over his ears, he turned tail and bolted away. Seconds later, he’d disappeared into the dark.
For a long moment, there was stunned, snow-stippled silence. Then a bug-eyed bystander muttered, “Damn, lady. I guess you told him.”
Amie chuckled. “Why, thank you. I do believe I did.”
“Holy shit,” Lucas gasped. Pulling his flask from his jacket, he drained it.
“Damnation,” Brice rasped. “You told me once that you had dreams about shooting him through the head, and now I believe you have.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Smiling, Amie replaced her hat on her head. “That’ll teach him to cross us. It’s always fun to use their language against them.”
“That, gentlemen, is what several seasons of Designing Women can teach you,” Grace said, taking Amie by the arm. “Come on, Julia Sugarbaker. Let’s get out of here before that shattered bastard limps back here with the law and accuses you of assault and battery.”
“I’LL DRIVE,” BRICE SAID, BRUSHING SNOW OFF HIS shoulders. Having said their goodnights to Grace and Amie, the two men stood by Lucas’s truck in the parking lot of Radcliffe’s Roost. Across the road, Lost Creek burbled noisily. Otherwise, the winter night was utterly silent.
Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever.” He dropped the keys into Brice’s outstretched hand.
Neither spoke on the drive up Brantley Valley. Lucas slumped back into the corner of the truck cab, eyes closed. When they reached the compound, he clambered unsteadily from the truck.
“Whoa. I’m pretty shit-faced,” he said, swaying.
“So I see. You gonna be sick?”
“Naw. Not that shit-faced. Give me a hand?”
“Sure. I got you.” Brice took his arm and helped him up the few steps to the porch. Once inside, Lucas staggered over to the couch and collapsed onto it.
“Guess I’ve had enough, huh?” Lucas asked.
“Yep. Some water’ll help fend off a hangover.” Brice fetched Perrier from the bar fridge.
“Thanks.” Lucas guzzled the mineral water. “You gonna tell me to stop drinking so much?”
“Naw. You’re an adult, and I’m not your father. Mind if I cuddle with you? It’s chilly in here.”
“Cuddle away.” Lucas gave Brice a lopsided grin. “Too late to make a fire. We’ll head up to my cabin once I’m done with this.”
Brice plopped down beside Lucas, wrapped an arm around him, and arranged an afghan over their laps and legs. “This all right?”
“Hell, yes,” Lucas said, slurring his ‘s.’ “I still can’t believe how Miss Amie told that frigging preacher off.”
“Me neither. She was magni
ficent.”
“Uncle Phil can be the same way. Folks like that, you never wanna piss off…unless you like getting publicly humiliated. I’m glad she went off on him. The crap he was saying got under my skin.”
“It shouldn’t. It was all pure bullshit.”
“I guess.” Lucas gulped Perrier. “It was still hard to hear.”
“Yeah, I know. A preacher in my hometown…we got into a pretty loud altercation a few months back. I sort of lost it.”
Lucas didn’t respond. He simply nodded, staring at the cold hearth.
“Lucas, you wanna talk?”
“Sure,” Lucas said. “What about?”
“Why you’re drinking so much. Same reason as yesterday, that’s my guess.”
“Mommy? Yep. Guess so.” Lucas took another gulp of Perrier and looked Brice in the eye. “Goddamn, you’re handsome. Do you know how goddamn handsome you are?”
“That’s just the booze talking.” Brice rubbed his knuckles over Lucas’s scalp. “No wonder. You’ve been swilling steadily since about 4:30. It’s nearly ten now.”
Lucas shrugged. “Feels good to get so soused every now and then. I get tired of….”
“Of what?” Brice pulled him closer.
Lucas turned his head and pressed his brow against Brice’s shoulder. “Of feeling. I feel too much. That’s always been my problem. A tragic flaw, like in those Greek plays I read in prison. I just….”
“Go on.” Brice squeezed him gently. “This is another thing we have in common, I think.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Lucas nodded, leaned back, and took another drink. “Ever since I was a kid, knee-high to a grasshopper, I’ve just…felt too much. I’m too damn sensitive. I try to be tough, to be a grown-up, to be a man, but…everything gets to me, y’know? I’m so easy to hurt, so thin-skinned. It wears me out. It wears everybody out.”
“It doesn’t wear me out,” Brice said.
“Hell, you’ve only been here for a few weeks. Watch out. Pretty soon, I’ll wear you out too.”
“You’re not gonna wear me out, Lucas. Just the opposite. You’ve…how do I say this? You’ve reinvigorated my life. You’ve brought me back from the dead.”
Lucas laughed. “You’re a crazy man. You’re gonna get tired of me any day now and head on out of here. I’m a loser. I broke my Mommy’s heart, that minister said, and he’s right.”
“He’s wrong. I think she broke your heart, and that’s because she’s too judgmental to love you for who you are.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Lucas shook his head. “If you don’t get out of here, who knows? I’m liable to break your heart too.”
“You may do that,” Brice said, taking Lucas’s hand. “That’s entirely within the realm of possibility. Every time a man lets himself love someone, that someone has the power to break his heart. But I don’t think in this case that’s gonna happen.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So you ain’t going anywhere?”
“No, I’m not. I’ve already told you that. I’m only leaving if you want me to.”
Lucas drained the Perrier bottle, swayed forward, put it with exaggerated care onto the coffee table, and stared at the carpet. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave me.”
“Lucas, listen to me.” Brice lifted Lucas’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I ain’t going anywhere. I swear. You hear me? I love you. I love you for who you are. I’m staying here with you.”
Brice cleared his throat, feeling tears trying to gather but fighting them back. “I love you. You’re my life now. What kind of man decides to leave his life unless he has no choice but to do so?”
“You’re my life too.” Lucas choked up a sob. He pressed his face into his cupped hands for a long moment before turning his wet gray-blue gaze back to Brice. “I want you to stay. Stay, okay? Please stay. Stay and take care of me. I need you to take care of me. I need you to take care of me.”
Brice stroked the boy’s furry cheek. “You got it.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.” Leaning forward, Brice kissed Lucas on the brow.
“Good. Will you help me now?”
“Sure. Do what?”
“Help me stand up and get up the hill to my cabin and up to our bed. ‘Sall right?”
“All right. I’m gonna get more water and some aspirins in you before bed. Okay? To ward off a hangover.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “Good idea. Good idea. Maybe a nice quick hot shower too. Thank you, man. Thank you.”
“Sure.” Brice stood. With difficulty, he pulled Lucas to his feet. “For what?”
“For being so good t’me,” Lucas groaned. “So good t’me. My hero. Write me another song? Promise?”
Brice wrapped an arm around Lucas’s waist. “Yes, buddy. I’ll write you another song. I promise. Here now. Let’s get you buttoned up. It’s still snowing out.”
“HOW YOU FEELING?” BRICE ASKED, as he toweled Lucas off.
“Better. Lot better. The shower helped.”
“Come on then.” Brice took Lucas by the hand, helped him into bed, and switched off the lamp. Lucas snuggled back against Brice, Brice kissed Lucas on the shoulder blade, and both men were asleep within minutes.
In the middle of the night, a bad dream broke apart Brice’s sleep. Muttering peevishly, he rose, his bladder full, and hit the bathroom. Returning to bed, he wrapped an arm around Lucas, nestled close, and did his best to forget the details of the dream. He was beginning to drift off again when Lucas’s soft voice roused him.
“Brice? You awake?”
“Yeah. Had a stupid nightmare.”
“What about?”
“It was real subtle. I was performing in the Ryman to a house of completely empty seats.” Brice chuckled. “What do you think that could mean?”
Lucas chuckled too. “You’re right. Mighty subtle. Mighty mysterious. Too complex for me to interpret.”
Brice ran a palm over Lucas’s buzz cut. “How you feeling after all that booze?”
Lucas rolled over onto his back. “I’m fine. No headache or nothing. I woke up a little while ago and started thinking.”
“Yeah?” Brice yawned. “What about?”
“Guess.” Lucas reached over, took Brice’s hand, and pressed his erect cock into his palm.
“Aha,” Brice said, smiling into the dark. He gripped Lucas’s prick and stroked it slowly. “After all that’s happened in the last two days, I was wondering when you might—”
“Get back in the mood after the family trauma and drama?”
“Yeah. Well put.” Brice tightened his thumb and forefinger around Lucas’s cock-shaft, just below the head, and stroked more firmly. “I love the way your dick feels. Big as mine. But thicker, I think. Makes a glorious handful.”
Lucas groaned and thrust into Brice’s grip. “Uhhhh. You sure know how to handle it. Mmm, yeah. So, Brice?”
“Yeah?”
“A couple of times now, you’ve said you love me. Right?”
“Right. Absolutely. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Does that bother you? That I love you? Do you want me to love you?”
“Bother me? I’m fucking ecstatic. Of course I want you to love me.”
“You do?” Brice flicked the tip of his forefinger over Lucas’s come-slit, found moisture there, and began to rub the tiny opening.
“Ummmmm. Yes. I believe you…you love me…because…you listen to me, you care how I feel, you make me feel…wanted…mmmmm…you protect me, you stand up…for me…. I can’t express how…uhh…how much all that means to me. So now….”
“Now?”
“Now I’m ready for you to show me…how you care about me…in ways that you’ve been waiting for.” Lucas arched his back and thrust steadily into Brice’s hand. “You’ve been so patient, Brice. I appreciate that so damn much. I still ain’t quite ready for butt-sex, but just about everything else�
��uhhhhh uuuuunnn…yes.”
“So you’re saying…other than ass-play, you’re giving me permission to love you in the ways I’ve mentioned before?”
“Yeah. Mmm! Oh, yeah. You up for that tonight?”
Brice heaved a long sigh, a sound welling with pleasure and relief, full of the knowledge that long-awaited raptures were imminent. “You bet,” he said, jacking Lucas’s cock. “One warning, though.”
“Yeah?”
“I tend to get a little rough when I’m really into a guy, and I don’t think I’ve ever been into anyone as much as I’m into you. So just tell me if….”
“I’ll tell you if you’re getting too rough. Go slow, okay? Make it last. I don’t wanna shoot too soon.”
“It’s a deal. You’re not still drunk, though? I ain’t gonna make love to you while you’re drunk and then have you wake up sober, regretting all we did.”
“I’m sober. I promise. Make love to me, Brice. Please. I want it bad.”
Brice heaved another deep sigh. “All right, Lucas. Here we go. You ready?”
“I am ready indeed. Go for it.”
Still gripping Lucas’s dick, Brice climbed on top of him. “Oh, God, you’re such a gift,” he groaned, nuzzling Lucas’s face.
“Same to you, big guy.” Lucas nibbled Brice’s lips. “I love the way your big beard feels against my face.” He wrapped his arms around Brice’s broad back, kissed him, and pulled him closer, all the while riding Brice’s fist.
Brice luxuriated in Lucas’s kisses for a long time, till both men’s whiskers were wet with spit. Brice released Lucas’s prick and pulled away, only to slide down Lucas’s body till his head was level with his lover’s torso.
“Ummm, your sweet, sweet tits,” Brice said, kissing Lucas’s right pec. “You mind if we turn on the bedside light? I really want to see you.”
“And I wanna see you,” Lucas said. “Gotta feast all five senses, right?”
Lucas flipped on the lamp. The two men grinned happily at one another. Then Brice lowered his gaze to Lucas’s bare chest.
“Oh, God, you’re so built. You’re so beautiful.”
Entranced, Brice ran a reverent hand over Lucas’s torso. His pecs were low mounds of muscle, hills forest-fuzzy with a sparse coating of reddish brown hair. The nipples were tiny and erect. Brice squeezed the right pec gently in his palm, reveling in the dense strength embodied there, and then bent to the nipple and lapped it.