We talked a little about our short story with Torquere Press, “Taking a Chance,” last week when it was time for “C.” Today it’s time for Jay, the hero of our little tale – and we decided to share a little teaser:
“Scott, what are you mad about?” Dr. Jacob Davison rubbed his stomach and fought off the queasiness. “I texted you that things were running late. And I apologized for making you wait for me.”
Scott grimaced, flexing his hands on the wheel of the Mercedes. “It’s hot out. I almost ran out of gas running my AC continually. You said it would be done at four.”
“They put out an open call. Anyone could come to get their photos taken for NOH8. The more support for this cause, the better.”
Scott waved his hand, causing the car to swerve. “But why didn’t you just leave?”
Jay swallowed, trying to contain his upset stomach. Scott’s attitude didn’t help him any. “I signed up to volunteer. I wasn’t going to leave.” He paused. “You could’ve come in.”
Scott snorted. “And do what?”
“Socialize, have a snow cone, get your photo taken.”
“I’m not a flag waver, like you.”
“I didn’t suggest walking in a parade. Michelle was there helping out, as well. You could have met her; she’s heard all about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s my friend. Of course she knows about you.”
“So, you’ve told a lot of people about us?” Scott’s gaze slid sideways at him.
Jay frowned. “Well, yeah. It’s not like I keep that you’re my boyfriend a secret.”
“Everyone at the hospital, too?”
“I’m out there, why?” Jay’s stomach churned, telling him that having those three snow cones on an empty stomach with only coffee first had been a bad idea. Another reason caused his physical distress, though — Scott’s odd reactions during their conversation. He turned in his seat to watch Scott’s face. “Your friends and coworkers know about us, too, right?”
Scott stared at the road, but the car swerved again.
Jay’s acid stomach soured as suspicions started to pile up. “Are you still in the closet?”
“It’s just for my work. I deal with a lot of ‘good old boys’ and am expected to flirt with female clients.”
“I’m not going to be your dirty secret or your booty call.” Jay’s stomach flipped. “Damn it, pull over, I’m going to be sick.”
“Not on my leather upholstery!”
The car lurched to the side of the road, not helping Jay keep control of his queasiness. Jay staggered from the car and emptied his stomach in the grass. When he straightened, Jay stared around in shock.
Only empty road filled his vision. Scott and his gleaming Mercedes were nowhere in sight.