My Hometown

by SJD Peterson

  “I wish. But then again, I’d have to actually buy a ticket before I could win. Next best thing.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Jimmy loved the idea and wants to have a powwow with us about financing it.”

  Eric was shocked and pissed in equal measure, and he tensed. The phone dropped to the ground. “Shit, hold on,” he yelled out and snatched it up. “Sorry, dropped the phone. Did you say you’re calling to set up an appointment with us and Jimmy?”

  “Yeah. He liked our ideas and wants me to stay around.”

  “It’s great, Scott,” Eric gritted out while he tried to swallow down the bile that had risen in his throat. Jimmy actually had Scott call him to set up a fucking appointment to see him. Still he said, “I can come. What time?”

  “Cool, tonight after dinner, say six?”

  “I’ll be there,” Eric assured him, flipped the phone shut, squeezing it tight in his hand, and closed his eyes. Breathe, just fucking breathe. He had the mind to tell Jimmy to kiss his ass. They didn’t need his goddamn money. If this wasn’t so important to Scott, he’d do just that.

  And the fact you want to see him.

  Eric shoved his phone back in his pocket and told the little voice inside his head to shut the fuck up.

  JIMMY STOOD in front of the mirror and scowled at his reflection. Small bits of toilet paper stained red covered the nicks on his jaw and chin and the goop that covered his hands had done nothing to tame his wild hair. Instead it looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, every glued strand standing straight up. He looked ridiculous.

  He glanced at his watch—ten minutes. He growled and flipped on the taps in the shower. He shivered when he impatiently stepped in before the water heated. He snatched the shampoo from the shelf and poured a large amount and scrubbed his head until the glue gave up its hold.

  What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He’d never worried about shaving or his hair all the hundred million times he’d gone to see Eric. It had to be because they hadn’t seen each other in quite some time and it was important for him to show Eric how well he was doing. That he wasn’t some yahoo who went to college for the parties and to avoid growing up. That he was actually making something of himself.

  That had to be it.

  He rinsed the soap from his hair and stepped out. He dried quickly and only checked his reflection long enough to make sure the toilet paper was all gone. He was done being stupid. Eric would never think he was a screwup and he certainly wouldn’t give a damn about Jimmy’s hairstyle.

  He pulled on a pair of jeans, a white V-neck tee, and grabbed one of his old denim button-up shirts from the closet and shrugged it on. He sat on the edge of the bed and put on his socks.

  “Whew, lookin’ sexy, sweets,” Oliver complimented as he walked into the room.

  “Thanks, babe, but would you please stop calling me that?”

  “But you are sexy,” Oliver insisted and sat next to Jimmy, pecking him on the cheek.

  “The sweets comment. You know I hate being called that.”

  Oliver pressed his lips to the side of Jimmy’s neck, his tongue snaking out to lick beneath Jimmy’s ear. “But you taste so sweet, I can’t help it,” Oliver purred. His hand landed on Jimmy’s lap and he gently squeezed his package.

  Jimmy grabbed Oliver’s hand and pulled it away from his groin. He turned his head and kissed the tip of Oliver’s nose. “Behave. I promised Scott I’d be over at six.”

  “Not even time for a blow job? Share some of that sweetness with me?” Oliver asked and reached for Jimmy’s crotch again.

  Jimmy disentangled himself from Oliver’s arms and stood. “Stop. I told you I have to run, but I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” He grabbed the towel and ran it over his head, his short hair already nearly dry.

  “Promise?”

  Jimmy grabbed a ball cap from the closet and set it on his head. “I promise. Be back in an hour. Two at the most.”

  “Gives me just enough time to take a bubble bath and do a little primping for ya.”

  “Have fun,” he tossed over his shoulder, already hurrying down the stairs.

  Although Scott’s cabin was at the back of the property, Jimmy passed his car, walking along the dirt road to enjoy the early evening sun. Halfway there, he realized the error of his ways. Tennessee was a lot fucking hotter than Chicago and sweat trickled down his temples and spine. He wiped his sleeve over his brow and then rolled them both up. He forgot all about his discomfort when he rounded the corner and spotted Eric’s old black Dodge Ram truck.

  It took every bit of willpower not to break into a dead run, but he couldn’t control the way his strides elongated or the way his heartbeat kicked up a couple notches. He lost all fucking control when he spotted Eric talking to Scott on the porch.

  “Well, I’ll be damned! Scott, you’ll let any ol’ riffraff hang out at your place,” Jimmy teased as he got closer.

  “Damn right he does, look who just showed up,” Eric countered.

  Jimmy bounded up the steps and pulled Eric into a hug. “How the hell you doing?” he asked and patted Eric on the back.

  “Same ol’, same ol’,” Eric drawled.

  When Jimmy released him, Eric had a smile on his face, dimples just a-shining, but it didn’t reach his eyes and he’d been tense when Jimmy had hugged him. Then he noticed the dark circles under Eric’s brown eyes, and shrugged it off to the man working too hard or having been out too late the night before. The rest of him looked damn good. His hair curled from beneath his John Deere snap-back cap, he had dark scruff on his square jaw, and he’d bulked up quite a bit. He didn’t just look damn good, he was fucking hot.

  Jimmy chastised himself silently and forced his gaze away from Eric’s and his damn hotness. “Scott, did you show Eric your portfolio?”

  “Not yet, he just got here. Where’s your daddy?”

  “He’s not feeling well, but he gave me the go-ahead. Said if you liked the plan, he would too. You have quite the clout with the old man.”

  “That’s ’cause he knows a good man when he sees one,” Scott drawled and pushed out his chest, preening a little. “I was about to grab us a couple beers. You want one?”

  “Sure.”

  “You need a glass, college boy?”

  Jimmy flipped off Scott, who laughed as he headed into the cabin. Jimmy leaned against the porch railing, resting the heel of his boot on the bottom brace. “Been a while. How’s things?”

  “Never better. How’s school?”

  “Survived med school. Barely.” Jimmy smirked.

  “That’s good,” Eric said with a nod. His arms were crossed over his broad chest in a closed-off stance, his head turned toward the fields.

  The silence stretched between them, and not the comfortable type he was used to when being with Eric. Eric looked as tense as Jimmy felt. “Everything okay?”

  “Yup.”

  Jimmy started to say more, but Scott appeared, holding up three longnecks in one hand, his laptop in the other.

  “Thanks,” Jimmy said as he took one, popped the cap off, and gulped down a good amount, soothing his suddenly dry throat. He took another drink, hoping it would have the same effect on his nerves that the first drink had had on his throat.

  Scott handed a beer to Eric and then set his laptop on the patio table. “Air conditioner is on the fritz so I thought we’d sit out here to do this.”

  “I’d just as soon sit out here anyway.” Eric pulled a pack of smokes from his shirt pocket, tapped one out, and slid it between his lips.

  “When the hell did you pick up that nasty habit again?” Jimmy balked.

  “’Bout a year ago.” He lit up, took a long drag, tilted his head back, and blew it out slowly. “You got a problem with it?” he asked, staring at the cigarette between his fingers.

  “Only that it’s bad for you.” Jimmy took a seat at the table.

  “Lots of things are bad for me.” Eric chose the seat next to Sco
tt rather than the open one next to Jimmy.

  Jimmy frowned but didn’t comment further. There was some unspoken tension swirling in the air around them, and as badly as Jimmy wanted to cut it, another part of him was afraid to in case it was the only thing that was keeping them bound together at the moment and if it disappeared, Eric would too.

  Scott took a few minutes to go over the plan he’d outlined, Eric listening with interest, but Jimmy was only hearing half of what Scott said. He’d already seen the plan and figures, knew all about the goats, beehives, and free-range chickens, blah blah blah. Instead he spent the time running a critical eye over Eric and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong, what he’d done to upset Eric, so he could apologize and get back to where they were supposed to be, where they’d always been: best friends.

  Without taking his gaze from the laptop, Eric pulled off his denim shirt and hung it on the chair behind him. Jimmy got a glimpse of ink peeking up from the collar of his T-shirt. The tattoos he knew were on Eric’s biceps were now connected to an array of different symbols, words, and images Jimmy couldn’t quite make out, which ran down the length of his forearm to his wrist.

  Suddenly, Eric snatched his beer up and sat back in his chair, catching Jimmy staring at him. “I’ve been telling Scott this organic shit would not only protect our land but make us fucking rich.” He put the rim of the bottle to his lips and added, “’Bout damn time someone listens to me.” He tipped his beer up and downed the entire contents.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re a real genius. But even geniuses are bitches to the almighty dollar,” Scott reminded him.

  “That’s where Jimmy comes in,” Eric commented and went to his feet. “I need alcohol.”

  “Grab me another one, will ya?” Scott asked.

  “You need one too?” Eric asked Jimmy.

  Jimmy looked down at his half-empty bottle. “Yeah, I’ll take another one.” He finished it by the time Eric returned.

  “So we’re going to do this?” Eric asked, looking back and forth between Jimmy and Scott. Scott looked at Jimmy expectantly.

  “Hell, yeah, we’re going to do it. After seeing Scott’s plan—”

  “From my idea,” Eric clarified with a grin.

  Jimmy returned the smile as he got a glimpse of his old friend, the excitement reaching his eyes. “Bottom line, I looked at the numbers, talked to Dad, and we can come up with the funds to make the Scott and Eric Organic Farm a reality.”

  “That’s a stupid name,” Eric grumbled. “Should be the Eric and Scotty’s Organic Farm.”

  Scott reached over and playfully slapped Eric on the back of his head, shoving his cap over his eyes. “Boy, respect your elders. I’m the oldest, so I get top billing.”

  “Beauty before age,” Eric countered and set his cap right.

  The two began play slapping at each other, Jimmy laughing, until Scott surrendered when his beer got tipped and he caught it seconds before it soaked his laptop.

  “Children, children.” Jimmy chuckled. “You two can figure out who’s the top later, but the organic farm part is dumb. Figure out a catchier name than that.”

  Both Scott and Eric froze, their eyes wide as they stared at Jimmy.

  “What?” Jimmy asked, glancing back and forth between the two. Then it hit him. A question the two of them had asked him many times. One that had become a private joke between them.

  He gave the same answer he always did. “Drop your drawers, bend over, and I’ll show you.”

  “Eww,” Scott hooted. “I’ll leave that one to your butt-buddy.”

  “Fuck you,” Eric scoffed, but the snort of laughter that escaped him ruined the harsh comeback.

  Just like that, the tension in the air was gone and the three of them shared beers and laughter. Tears were rolling down Jimmy’s cheeks when his cell phone chirped. He pulled it out and glanced at it, seeing it was Oliver texting and that he’d been gone for over three hours.

  “Shit! I gotta get home.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and downed the last of his beer.

  “I gotta run too. C’mon, I’ll drop you off at the house,” Eric offered, pushing to his feet and grabbing his shirt.

  “See you in the morning, Scott. Thanks for the beers,” Jimmy said, following Eric down the stairs.

  “Night.”

  Jimmy opened the passenger door and shook his head. He had to shove the food wrappers, empty cans of Skoal, and water bottles out of the seat before he could get in. “When’s the last time you cleaned this pigsty out?”

  “It’s a work truck, don’t need to be cleaned,” Eric responded with his familiar comeback anytime Jimmy would complain about the condition of the truck. He turned the key and the truck spit and sputtered but didn’t turn over. Eric pumped the gas a few times and tried again.

  “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

  “Better yet, you need to scrap this hunk of junk, garbage and all.”

  Eric patted the truck’s dash. “Don’t listen to him, Bulla, I’d never part with you.” He turned the key again and the truck fired to life. “That’s my girl,” he purred and put her in drive.

  As they drove along the dirt road, Jimmy rolled down the window, letting out the stench of old smoke and God knew what else, and rested his arm on the door. “You have an unhealthy relationship with this truck.”

  “She’s my first love. Stop picking on her,” Eric grumbled playfully. His expression turned closed once again as he nodded. “Looks like someone’s waiting up for you.”

  Jimmy followed Eric’s gaze and spotted Oliver leaning on the porch railing and chatting with Jimmy’s mom.

  “He’s just as bad as her,” Jimmy laughed. “Come on up and I’ll introduce you.”

  Eric pulled up close to the back porch, staring out the windshield, but he didn’t put the truck in park or cut the engine.

  “Just for a minute. I know Mom would love to see you,” Jimmy encouraged, then opened the door and stepped out.

  “Only for a second,” Eric finally agreed. He put the truck in park but didn’t turn it off.

  “Hey, Eric, come give me some sugar,” Mom called out.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Eric bounced up the stairs and pecked Mom on the cheek. “How’s my best girl?”

  “That’s not what he just told Bulla,” Jimmy teased.

  “I’m good, and I ain’t jealous of Bulla. We both look out for Eric.” Mom patted Eric on the arm.

  Jimmy wrapped his arm around Oliver’s waist and whispered, “Sorry I’m late.” He then turned his gaze to Eric. “Oliver, this is my good friend Eric. Eric, Oliver.”

  “Pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard such delicious things about you. I can see they are all true,” Oliver complimented and held out his hand in a gesture like he expected Eric to kiss his hand rather than shake it. Jimmy wanted to slap him, but he gritted his teeth instead. Oliver always acted way over the top when he was nervous, and apparently he was really fucking nervous to meet Eric because holy hell, even Jimmy wanted to cringe at the display.

  Eric frowned and awkwardly took Oliver’s hand and shook it. “Umm, thanks, I think.”

  Jimmy didn’t miss the way Eric’s brow furrowed as he looked down at his hand when he pulled it away from Oliver’s, or the way he slid his palm along the side of his thigh as if wiping away something unpleasant.

  Eric caught himself quickly and smiled. “Nice meeting you, Oliver.” To Jimmy, he said, “Hey, I gotta get home. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

  “Yup, see you later,” Jimmy responded.

  Eric strolled back to his truck and yelled, “Night, Mama B.” He slid behind the wheel and was gone.

  Jimmy stared at the back of the truck till it disappeared around the corner. Damn right they would be talking later. Eric had always had an uncanny ability to read people, but Jimmy had never seen him respond to someone quite so negatively after only a simple handshake.

  Chapter Four

  PULLING OUT of the Brin
ks’ driveway, Eric continued to run his hand along his denim-covered thigh. The rumor mill around Hale moved at warp speed and so he’d already heard Jimmy’s man wasn’t the type to fit in around these parts. Now that he’d met Oliver, he knew that was the understatement of the year. Eric finally understood why Jimmy had never brought him home to meet the family until now. Oliver acted too much like a girl rather than a dude, but he could admit there was a certain appeal about him. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. Oliver was also a little over the top with his flamboyant mannerisms, but not in a creepy kind of way or anything like that. However, the minute Eric’s palm touched him, he’d instantly disliked the guy.

  Driving along the back road the short way home, he tried to figure out what the hell it was about Oliver that sent up red flags and caused his skin to prickle. He dismissed the notion of Oliver being a stranger, as well as the fact that he was gay. He’d known since he was a teen Jimmy was gay and it had never bothered him. Then again, Jimmy never looked or acted like anything but Jimmy.

  “Oh shit,” Eric grumbled. “I am so fucking judgmental.” Obviously it was okay to be gay as long as the guy didn’t act gay.

  He scrubbed his hand over his scruff, disgusted with where his thoughts had landed.

  Wait a minute….

  Oliver wasn’t the first flamboyant man he’d ever met. The summer after their senior year in high school, Jimmy had talked him into accompanying him to a gay club featuring a drag show. It hadn’t been Eric’s cup of tea, but he hadn’t been skeeved out like the way Oliver made him feel, and they had been wearing dresses, makeup, and fucking six-inch stilettos. He’d had a great time: laughed, drank, even got up and danced with some queen named Tanya TaTa.

  It was Oliver.

  The only other possibility was that regardless of how the evening with Jimmy had ended on a good note, both of them falling back into their easy familiar ways, deep down he must still be pissed at him and projecting his anger onto Oliver.

  Eric pulled around to the back of his house and cut the engine. He glanced down at his hand and wrinkled his nose. No, it was definitely Oliver.