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“Attack?” She whirls back to us. “I’ll have you know that we are doing nothing illegal. We are technically not even affecting your business today because you. Aren’t. Open.”
The clap-back way she said that raises my hackles further. “It affects us if your entire point is to run us out of business. Just because we’re closed today—”
“And what is your new consultant doing here so early on a Monday when, in fact, you are closed?”
“Because he’s my boyfriend!” I get in her face, and several passersby definitely glance at our Pride flag now. “He is also a consultant, neither of which is your business, because our business does not affect yours! It never did! It never would! And pretending like this isn’t about me being a queer boy in a dress for the tours is bullshit! Respectfully, Mrs. Sherman,” I add through clenched teeth.
The churchgoers clearly didn’t expect the small pretty boy in glasses and an oversized sweatshirt to snap like that. Neither did I, but whatever magic from Odai is keeping me from crumbling like I usually do is definitely doing the trick. I’m practically shaking from how rare it is for me to get this riled up, but I will not give ground. Not this time.
The crowd murmurs to each other as Mrs. Sherman attempts to keep their allegiance.
“I assure you that this is not about lifestyle choices,” she tries, “but a level of indecency in our neighborhood—”
“I think to settle this—” Odai steps out from behind me “—instead of calling the police, I should call Fluid Fashion and some of the other establishments from the nearby queer district to get their take on your choice of targets. Then we can truly see where this community stands.”
That makes the crowd warier, and a few start fading into the background to slip away. News stories about how well that sort of “protest off” has gone down in front of other queer-run businesses is probably more than enough to have them spooked.
Good. As more and more retreat, the rest follow, leaving Mrs. Sherman struggling to look as if she has any power at all.
“People of this neighborhood, listen to me!” she calls through her megaphone.
“No,” I grumble and shove Odai back inside with me, closing the door behind us.
“Perhaps we should call Fluid Fashion and some others?” Odai suggests.
“No. She’ll wear herself out eventually now that she’s lost most of her audience. If we call in SJ and company, Cas might show up with a baseball bat.”
Odai chuckles—but I know how true that could be.
Even if Cas hasn’t been talking to me much lately.
Until Mrs. Sherman does wear herself out, however, her voice is very grating.
“Can I wish to not be able to hear her while she’s doing that?” I ask.
Odai snaps his fingers, and the sound of her outside the door becomes blissfully silent. “Granted.”
“Thank you. I know they say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I really do not want this escalating into a standoff of protest factions. Though threatening that was a good idea. Thanks for that too.” When I finally turn my back on the now muted commotion outside, Odai is grinning. “What?”
“Your boyfriend, am I?”
Oh shit. I did say that. “Only if you want to be! I know it’s been like barely a week and a half, but you are amazing and have given me more orgasms than most of my past boyfriends combined, so—”
Odai kisses me, which he has rarely done without me asking first. It makes all the tension in my shoulders ease away like shrugging off a weighted blanket. There has never been a better way to stop me mid-ramble. After flicking his forked tongue over my lips, he says, “I would very much like to officially be your paramour, beautiful one.”
He is seriously perfect.
“And not to worry. You wished for Mrs. Sherman to be dealt with, and she will be.”
That sounds ominous, but I kind of don’t mind right now. When I glance outside again, Mrs. Sherman is still in front of our door, talking through her megaphone, even if I can’t hear her. “You know, I think I’m going to go next door and get us some coffee. Through the back way.”
“You would not prefer to simply wish for it?” Odai asks.
“That’s okay. I need the walk. But thank you. Really.” I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him, just a simple peck—for my boyfriend. “I’ll bring you something back too.”
“Whatever you wish.”
“I wish to get to do things for you sometimes.”
