Page 36 of A Straight Line

Oh, honey. Country gays.

“Russ?” I didn’t intend for it to sound like a question.

The man smiled and held out his hand. Tentatively, I slid mine into his. My whole body shook as the muscled shirtless guy waggled my arm like I was some inflatable creature outside of a car lot.

“Michael,” He said a little too loudly.

From the smell of beer coming off of him, it was easy to figure out why he was having a problem with volume control.

“Russ,” I repeated stupidly.

“Harry and Vic said I might find you in here,” He said. “Just look for the scrawny guy with glasses.”

“Wow.” I looked over at Denny.

He was laughing like an asshole.

Obviously, the drunken-shirtless-muscled guy hadn’t figured out he shouldn’t actually repeat the way my uncles had described me to him. Well, probably not my uncles. The description had probably come from just Harry.

“Vic recommended me for my job over at the station,” The guy—Michael—said.

“The station?” I asked.

“Officer Michael Hadsford.” His chest puffed out proudly.

Considering the size of his chest, that was saying something.

“You’re a police officer?” I asked, one eyebrow raising on its own.

“Hey,” He said, his hand finally letting go of mine, “we all have to have a day job, right?”

“True,” I said. “Just don’t arrest anyone tonight.”

I was only half-joking.

Michael laughed. “Short of someone getting murdered, I wouldn’t ruin this party by arresting anyone for anything. I wouldn’t do that to your uncles. They’re both the best guys I know!”

I wondered how many beers I’d have to drink before shouting became my standard conversation setting.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” I said neutrally.

Michael “whooped” and headed for the door, the tequila held securely in the crook of his arm.

“This party was so worth taking a vacation day,” He shouted over his shoulder before dashing out the back door.

Finally, the door was shut, and Denny and I were left in virtual silence, save for the muffled sound of the music outside. The two of us just grinned at each other, amused at what had just transpired. I knew why Denny was grinning—I think. We had just witnessed a bunch of shirtless guys, who weren’t so bad to look at, marching through the kitchen, close enough to touch if we had wanted. And they probably wouldn’t have minded one bit. That’s always something to smile about. I, on the other hand, was smiling because of the entire evening. Stories about my uncles, Bang Bang, food, beer, music, a blowjob, lesbians who could match Harry quip for quip, and then a parade of shirtless men. The whole night was ridiculous.

I loved it.

“I guess it’s coming to the part of the evening where shots are in order?” I laughed.

Denny pulled his phone out of his pocket long enough to glance at it.

“It’s nearly midnight,” He said, slipping his phone away once again.

“Jeez.” I shook my head. “Time slips away.”

“Hey,” Denny said, “do you…do you want my number? Ya’ know…for another night? Just so tonight’s not the only night we…hang out or whatever? Guys always have to eat dinner. Or see a movie. Maybe we could do that together sometime?”

I didn’t want to go with my gut reaction to say “no” as firmly as possible. That gut reaction had been my go-to for so many months. Instead, I decided to fight it a little.

“Let’s see how the night ends,” I said. “Good enough?”

“Good enough,” He said. “Another question?”

“Sure.”

“Wanna go do shots with a bunch of shirtless guys, elder gays, and aged lesbians?” He grinned wickedly.

“And the younger lesbians?”

“And all the in-betweeners?”

“Let’s go,” I said.

Denny smiled and gestured towards the back door. Maybe I wasn’t ready to commit to a dance, or a phone number so that we could have dinner at some future date—but I could commit to Patrón. I’m not made of steel, after all.