Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“About damn time,” another one answered. “I thought we’d have to deal with his grumpy ass ’til Christmas.”
“Hey, boss, who’s the lucky lady?” asked Remy, his best mason.
Surprised by the question and the topic, Fitch floundered under the scrutiny. He couldn’t very well tell a group of hardhats that he’d been daydreaming about cock, could he? Not if he wanted to keep their respect. He could picture the shit show that would happen if they found out. No doubt more than half would walk out on the build, and the rest would try to kick his ass just for being queer. No, until the end of this remodel, he’d keep his relationship a secret. He couldn’t risk the backlash.
“Uh-oh, he don’t wanna answer. She must be ugly as shit.” One of the laborers laughed.
“That true, boss? Did you end up in one of them beer goggle situations?” The five guys standing around chuckled.
“My cousin had one of them, ended up marrying the hag.” Another round of guffaws.
Feeling guilty for being such a chickenshit, Fitch ground his back molars. “Fuck off, all of ya, and get back to work.” He stomped off to grumbles about the return of his bad attitude and how the ass he’d plowed must not have been that great.
Around three he got Ansel’s reply and suddenly his crappy afternoon wasn’t so bad.
Sorry, overslept. Late to work. Talk later.
Fitch waited to call back until he was alone and could talk freely without worrying one of the guys would overhear his conversation. He was in the kitchen making a sandwich, the TV on in the background, when he dialed again and put the phone on speaker.
“Hi,” Ansel answered.
“Busy?”
“I’ve got a few minutes. We’re in the middle of rehearsal, but I asked for a break.”
“How was your day?”
“A bitch, same as always. Yours?”
He sighed as he spread mustard on his bread. “The crew asked if I got some because, apparently, I was acting like I won the lotto.”
Ansel breathed softly. “What did you say?”
“Not a damn word.” He couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth, how freaked out he’d been, how he wasn’t able to make the confession because he was a goddamn pussy.
“Z was wondering if I was coming down with the flu last night because, in his words, I wasn’t being my usual trampy self.”
“That’s harsh.” Fitch tried to focus on Ansel instead of his own issues as he layered the meat, cheese and sliced tomatoes.
“Nah, that’s actually pretty sweet for Z.”
“So, you haven’t mentioned...” He paused to consider his next words, but Ansel answered before he could finish his thought.
“Us? No. They know about you because they saw you the other day, but no, I haven’t said anything about our arrangement.”
Arrangement. That was an odd word choice. It made Fitch feel like they were doing something seedy.
“Why? Are you going to tell people?”
If he were dating a woman, his family would already know about her. “Yeah, I mean, eventually. Not right now, but it’s not a secret. Is it?”
It wasn’t the right moment. His parents were going through a tough time. He didn’t want to add any stress on top of the worry about his dad’s health. He didn’t believe they’d disown him, but that didn’t mean they’d be happy. His mom wanted grandkids so bad she’d pestered the crap out of him when he was with Sara. And she hadn’t even liked his ex.
“No.” The way Ansel extended the single syllable, it sounded like he wasn’t so sure. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ve got to go. They’re calling me back.”
“Bye, Angel.” Fitch hung up and brought his sandwich to the couch. He spent the rest of the night thinking about how to tell his parents he was dating a man.
And not just any man, but one who liked to wear makeup and heels. A man who danced half-naked for tips.
He was struggling to be okay with that last bit. How could he expect his parents to accept it?
* * *
For Ansel, the first few days after Easter weekend were a blur. He was busy with work, rehearsals and dancing at the club. He didn’t have time to think about his budding relationship. But after the first night, drinking only a couple beers and keeping his flirts to a minimum, the boys picked up on the change in his behavior. Z was the only one who mentioned it, but Ansel caught the side-eyes and curious looks from the other two.
He didn’t say anything. Part of him was nervous talking about it would be like ensuring your birthday wish didn’t come true. Another part was simply being selfish. Fitch was his. He didn’t want to share.
And maybe that made him a toddler with a new toy, but fuck it. He didn’t let people wear his new shoes when he got them either.