by Alex Berry
Chapter 2
It seemed to Ron that he had just fallen asleep when a loud banging on the front door woke him from a restless night's sleep. He'd tossed and turned on the queen-sized bed all night, trying to get comfortable. Finally, he'd called Travis around two in the morning, just to hear his voice. That, coupled with exhaustion, seemed to work and he'd drifted off sometime after three this morning. Bleary-eyed, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was seven-thirty. He pulled the pillow over his head as his cell rang. Staring up at the smooth plastered ceiling, he was tempted to throw the offending device across the hall. The only person he wanted to talk to at this time of morning, Travis, would be asleep after getting off from work around one a.m. He rolled over as the knocking kicked up again, this time a tapping on his bedroom window accompanied the door.
Cursing, he stood, pulled on a tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, and stomped to the door. Angry, he stared into the cherubic face of a woman he didn't know. She held a toddler's hand and offered an apologetic smile. He didn't return the smile or open the door. Too much of Travis had rubbed off on him to be courteous to a stranger this time of morning. A groan escaped his lips when his Uncle Randy walked up behind the woman.
After opening the door, he stood back and allowed them to enter. "I'm sorry for barging in on you like this, but we had no place to go and daddy said we could stay at grandma's place." The short blonde glanced over her shoulder at his uncle before looking at him.
"Didn't he tell you this isn't grandma's place? It hasn't been hers for over a year." He glared at his uncle who turned red under his perusal.
"Nooo...he didn't. He just...I mean, we just assumed it'd be okay if I stayed here for a while." Her voice trailed off as he stared at her.
"A while?" Somehow he doubted she meant for the funeral.
"Well, I'm having a tough time right now and lost my place, so I was kinda hoping, you know..."
Ron was too tired to play polite games. "No, I don't know. I don't even know who you are." Her face blanched as she looked at his uncle.
"Oh, this is Jenna, my boy Herman's girlfriend, and their kid. He lost his job and they're having a tough time. So..."
"So you thought it'd be okay to wake me up and see if she and her kid could stay in my house?" He stared at his uncle, determined that they realize he was no longer the simple-minded kid who tried to get along with everyone. He'd never heard of a Herman. For all he knew, this woman could be his uncle's mistress. It wasn't happening.
"Well, this is a difficult time for everyone. Family comes together and helps one another out." His uncle blustered.
"Put her up in a hotel. She cannot stay here." He was too tired and pissed to be polite. Jenna's jaw dropped. His uncle's jaw tightened. It was obvious they hadn't expected him to say no.
"Why not?" his uncle ground out.
Ron shrugged. "It's my house, this is a difficult time for me, and I don't want any company."
"What about your black lover? Will you let him stay here?" the older man sneered. At least he hadn't called Travis out of his name, so Ron overlooked his anger and walked to the front door.
"Who I allow to stay in this house is my business, not yours." He turned to Jenna, who looked between the two men, confused. "I'm sorry, Jenna. Uncle Randy will have to find you another place to stay." She nodded, squared her shoulders and walked out the front door.
"I don't like the man you've become," his uncle said, walking past him.
"I feel the same about you." Ron closed the door in the gawking man's face, locked it, and returned to bed.
∗ ∗ ∗
Around noon, Ron's mom showed up with Aunt Betsy. He'd just packed up the jewelry and some smaller items his grandmother had set aside for specific people. Once Travis arrived, they'd handle the distribution of the furniture.
"Hi, Ma, Aunt Betsy." He nodded at the women and headed for the kitchen. A few of his grandmother's friends had been by earlier, loaded with platters and bowls of food. "Come on back to the kitchen, I'm getting ready to grab a bite to eat." After pulling out some plates, he scooped a healthy helping of macaroni salad and chicken onto his plate. He eyed the lemon cake Ms. Green had made for him and Travis, knowing how much they loved her cakes. He decided he'd have a piece later and then put the rest up until tomorrow when Travis arrived.
His mom and aunt talked quietly while fixing their plates. He was so distracted thinking about the lemon treat that he failed to hear new footsteps entering the kitchen.
"What's up tubby-tubs?" Darryl walked into the kitchen, laughing at his insult. No one joined in, but that didn't stop the stand-up comedian wannabe. "What's with you and that plate of food anyway? You should be eating carrots and lettuce, not mac and chicken. Shit, you already hanging over those pants." He chuckled while grabbing a plate for him and Blake.
"Darryl, this is my house." The no-nonsense tenor in his voice had everyone staring at him.
Darryl shrugged. "Yeah, so?"
"So, I'm gonna warn you, cut that shit out. We're not in grade school anymore. If you can't be civil, you'll have to leave."
"Yeah? How do you plan to make me leave?" He walked up to Ron, his jaw tight.
Blake pulled on his lover's arm. "Come on, Darryl, chill."
Darryl shrugged off Blake's hand. "No, he wants to be the big man. Shit, he is the big man. Let's see what the big man's gonna do." The sneer in his voice matched the ugly red scowl on his face.
Ron smiled. He knew it wasn't pretty. He picked up the knife from the counter-top. "Step into my face and meet my new friend. I'm not your bitch, and if you don't want to be carried out of here, you'd best back the fuck up off me," he growled, holding the knife the way Jerome, Travis' friend, had taught him.
The surprise on everyone's faces would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so tense.
Darryl backed up with a snarl. "Punk," he murmured under his breath, but a glimmer of respect stole into his eyes.
Ron's brow rose. His heart had been racing in fear during the entire confrontation. True, he'd had some lessons on how to use a knife, but he knew it would've taken a miracle for him to have used it. Violence sickened him. Literally. It was a miracle he hadn't barfed on the countertop. The two sides of him battled, and in the end, he got his desired result, so he kicked his fear to the side, ignored the comment and smiled. His mom smiled at him while his aunt's lips puckered.
"I wanted to look through mama's things, see if there's anything I want," his aunt said, oblivious to his frown.
"Maybe after I finish handling granny's estate. Right now, I have to make sure everyone she planned to give certain things, receives them."
Her eyes grew large, then squinted. "Yeah? Like what? Her jewelry?"
Ron shrugged, not bothering to answer her.
"Mama's jewelry should come to her girls, right, Barb?" She touched his mother's shoulder.
His mom shrugged. "I haven't seen mama in over a year and she lived two hours from me. Something always came up. I'm ashamed to say I have no idea who her friends are, what she liked to do, or where she went. I don't even know if she has jewelry. But I do know this, if she wanted someone to have something of hers, then they should have it. Not me or you. How long has it been since you came to see her?" She looked at her sister.
His aunt took on a mulish tone. "I know I haven't seen her in a while, but that doesn't change the fact she was my mother."
Ron grew tired of the greed and wanted to nip it in the bud. "Remember this, if she was alive, you wouldn't come here trying to take anything from her, so don't try to take it now. I'm doing everything she asked me to, so like I said, you can look over things after I make sure her gifts to her friends are taken care of, first. They meant a lot to her." More than you, he left hanging in the air.
"I hear you turned away Herman and his old lady." Darryl stared at him across the counter.
"Who's Herman?" Ron asked, looking at his mother not wanting to deal with his cousin. She shrugged. So
he continued to eat, unconcerned since his mother would know her own nephew.
Darryl piped up. "Herman is Uncle Randy's son. Jenna and the little boy, the people you threw out, are his girlfriend and stepson."
"Randy has a son named Herman?" Ron's mother asked. A frown marred her brow. Aunt Betsy coughed and looked at her plate.
Darryl chuckled at his mom. "Uncle Randy cheated on Aunt Gladys and "Bam," now he has Herman. Of course, he no longer has Aunt Gladys, but we knew that marriage wasn't gonna work. Uncle Randy likes to fool around. A lot," he added. Both women stared at him as if he had two heads. He continued. "Herman lost his job and they don't have a place to stay."
"Why can't they stay with Uncle Randy?" Ron glanced at Darryl before rising to place his plate in the sink. Bad company had soured his appetite and he tossed most of the pasta in the trash.
Darryl hooped and covered his mouth. "That's who they're staying with. My guess is the old man wants to get them out of his house and into yours." His green eyes gleamed mischievously at Ron. "But I heard you grew some balls and tossed them out in the cold. The old man is pissed. Better watch out for him and his crazy son, Herman the monster."
Ron nodded, wishing everyone would leave so he could clean the house and do some work in the yard. "Yeah, thanks for the heads up." He rolled his eyes at Darryl, who laughed. Sick bastard. Ron turned to his mother who was finishing her lunch.
"Since the funeral is the day after tomorrow and the funeral home is small, a lot of people won't be able to attend. I've told some of granny's friends I'd host an informal wake here at the house tomorrow. Ms. Beard is taking care of the food and drinks. Some of the other folks are bringing chairs and tables." He'd been busy organizing the get-together for his grandmother's friends. Once Travis arrived, they'd start clearing the house and getting it ready for the women his granny wanted to take residence. Besides, he had a surprise for Travis and didn't want anyone around.
She nodded. "What time?"
Ron stood and glanced at the clock. Travis should arrive around three tomorrow afternoon, so the wake had to be over by four p.m. He looked at his irritating cousin with his wimpy partner. Should he warn them about Travis? He knew with a certainty the two men would not get along, and not just because Darryl enjoyed teasing him. No, Darryl played games and Travis hated gamesters. If nothing else, tomorrow would be interesting.
"Around noon, we'll finish up around four." His mother nodded.
"Are we invited?" his aunt asked in a dry tone. He was tempted to tell her no, but he had no real reason to deny her other than pure dislike.
"Of course, you're her daughter. I'm sure you want to hear what people thought about Florence Browning. Just a heads up, she had a large circle of friends and they tend to go on and on."
His aunt's lips tilted at the corners. "That's good. I'm happy she had someone, even though it wasn't me." Darryl nodded and stroked her across her shoulders as tears ran down her face.
Chapter 3
Travis wasn't happy. Last night, Ron had told him how some of his relatives wanted to stay in granny's home. Initially, they'd decided to rent it out. But Ron's grandmother had left a note asking him to allow a local organization to house battered women or unwed mothers in the house if he chose not to live there. She knew he had no plans at this time to leave Jacksonville, so he'd agreed. Like everything else, she'd failed to mention her plans to her children, so Ron looked like Scrooge turning away his relatives from a free ride. Travis was anxious to be at his lover's side in case anyone tried to show their displeasure physically.
Pulling up to Ron's granny's home, the number of cars in the yard pissed him off more. He had to walk a distance with his luggage. By the time he reached the front door, he was fuming.
Some small kid looked out the door and gasped. At six-three, the kid had a long way to look up. Travis still wore his aviator glasses and had his locks pulled back from his face to hang down his back.
"There's a black man at the door," the kid yelled as he ran away. Gritting his teeth, Travis wondered where the hell was Ron. He should've been expecting him. A moment later a flustered Ron opened the door and hugged him as if he were a walking gold bullion. Something eased inside as he looked into his baby's dark eyes. Ron was dressed in his signature pressed black trousers and a black and blue pinstriped dress shirt. His man loved to dress and Travis loved to undress him. Every strand of his dark hair was in place, and he wore the musk Travis had bought him last month. Mouth watering, Travis bent forward and touched his chin.
"You look tired," he whispered, examining Ron's face.
"I am, but it'll get better with you here." Ron tipped up and kissed Travis lightly on the lips. Travis inhaled Ron's scent, filling his nostrils until his entire body vibrated with need. He nipped Ron's lips.
"I missed you." They stared at one another. Ron's lips curled into a wicked smile. Travis's cock jumped.
"I missed you, too. Come in let me get you situated." Travis grinned and followed Ron to his room, nodding politely at the people staring at them. He could imagine what people saw when they looked at the two of them.
Mutt and Jeff.
Ron was the epitome of a clean cut, all-American white male. He used hair and face products, his hair and clothes were always neat, he even pressed his jeans. Whereas Travis admitted, he was rough around the edges. Tattoos covered his upper arms and chest, his hair hung in long dreadlocks, his jeans fit loosely on his hips, he wore urban wear tees and shirts, as well as Timberlands.
And that was besides the obvious; Ron was white and he was black. None of that mattered to them, the stares had gotten old a long time ago, and they rarely paid it any attention.
"Well, I guess we won't see tubby-tubs any more today."
Travis froze and glared at the tall man who'd spoken. "What'd you say?" His voice dropped an octave as he stared at the fool who'd made the remark.
The fool stood and laughed. "Hey man, I'm Darryl, Ron's cousin." He stuck out his hand. Travis looked down at it and then back up at him, brow raised. The man licked his lips and looked around the room filled with people. "We kid around like that all the time. A lil' family humor."
"It's not funny."
"What?"
"Name calling. I take exception to anyone calling my man out of his name. I don't give a damn who you are." The two stood in the middle of the room, weighing each other. The longer the man stared, the madder Travis became. He released his luggage, pulled off his glasses, and stepped closer to Darryl. Fist clenched, he spoke succinctly.
"You owe him an apology." The day had been crappy enough that it didn't take much to send him over the edge.
"Travis," Ron called from the side. "Not in Granny's house, you know she'd be pissed." Slowly the words penetrated the red fog of anger that swamped him.
"I don't know. She'd have wanted me to handle anyone trying to fuck you over. I promised her I'd never let that happen." He stared at a red-faced Darryl and the smaller man who stood behind him.
"That's true, Ronnie boy. She never could abide people making snide remarks about you and your choices." An older woman sitting in the corner said, watching the action.
Ron sighed loudly into the room. "Trav, she had you wrapped around her finger. But now isn't the time for this." He paused.
Travis looked at both men, itching for a fight. He hadn't been able to sleep worth a damn the last two nights without his partner. The flight had been overbooked and late. They'd had to search for his luggage, he had to wait for them to find a car for him at the rental agency, and now this bullshit. No. A round or two with these assholes would be just enough to calm him down.
"Damn it, I'm grieving and you want to play fuck 'em up. I said now isn't the time for that shit," Ron yelled, pushing Travis backward.
Everyone stared at Ron, mouths agape.
Travis chuckled. They had no clue how tough Ron was. "He started it."
Ron stood in front of him. "I need you with me. This has been a difficult week.
Granny died."
Travis released a sigh, and gazed at Darryl and the slim dude standing behind him. He shook his head and looked at Ron. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm pissed over some other things and kicking their ass would be such an easy stress reliever." He nodded in Darryl's direction, hoping the insult would move the asshole to do something stupid. Red-faced, the dude backed up and walked outside.