This is a work of gay romantic fantasy fiction. If reading this offends you or is illegal in your current location then do us both a favor and STOP READING NOW.
Questions, comments, suggestions and complaints are always welcome (and I love hearing from you). Hit me up at HonableRonable@gmail.com and I WILL get back to you. I'd love to know what you think about my story and if you are enjoying my work. (I'd also like to know what you DON'T like so I can try to improve in future chapters.)
CHAPTER NINE Pride (In the Name of Love)
CHARACTERS Ben Dover, Age 46 -- currently on a journey of self-discovery Cliff Dover, Age 38 -- Archdruid John-Thomas Bilodeau, Age 41 -- Druid and Cliff's boyfriend Nils Gustafsen, Age 32 -- English Instructor at Kings College CPO Levi Evans, 27, "Coastie" and Newest Druid of the Henge Rupert "Roops" Forbes, Age 35 -- Graphic Designer and Druid Steven "Santa" Klausen, Age 61 -- Riding with the Gay Veterans Alliance Jim Burkhalter, Age 21 -- Nazi Poster Boy Lt. Col. (ret.) Greg Donovan, Age 44 -- a new friend
"And--STOP!" Ben eased the brakes on his Toyota Hybrid Pickup and brought it to a halt just where the Parade Manager wanted it. The big man glanced back at the Float he was towing (a full-sized trailer with a partial representation of the Henge (painted in a lovely pastel rainbow ombre) to make sure the delicate structure had survived the trip from Seacliff.
"Thanks bro' you're the best!" Cliff gave his brother a quick hug before pulling off his shirt and shucking his jeans. Beneath his outerwear the man wore a barely-there Speedo ™ that covered everything but left nothing to the imagination. The man then got out a bright purple sleeveless robe that exposed most of his smooth muscular chest and a lot of well-tanned leg and thigh. He finished the look with a brown leather sash and sandals.
"I brought coffee!" John-Thomas Bilodeau said. He laid the box containing for Starbuck's "Venti" mugs on the hood of Ben's Toyota Tundra Electric before beginning his own strip. (Several people stopped to watch as the men changed in public.) "Consider it a small token of our esteem for driving the float!"
"Why am I here again?" Nils Gustafsen grumped. He wasn't a morning person and hadn't appreciated being rousted out of bed at 5:00 AM so he could ride along to watch Ben's right side while the Texan drove. To say the least Nils was NOT a morning person.
Ben sighed. "Short version--th' Ojedas are still out there son!" he told the blond man. "I know you've been talkin' t' Orlando an' I'm purty sure you'd meet up with that asshole if we gave you a chance!"
Nils hung his head, ashamed in front of the Dovers. "Even after everything I know he did to me I still want him!" he murmured. "He stole from me, got me hooked on drugs and he treats me like shit--but with all that--every time I hear his voice I get sucked right back into that vortex! God how you must hate me right now!"
The Texan was strongly tempted to give the younger man a stern lecture but John-Thomas cut him off with a look. "You were abused Nils," he said softly. "The Ojedas groomed you like a show dog and then Orlando worked you over! Part of it is the psychological after-affects of the drugs he gave you but you're still going to have to fight your way free of him!"
"We can't do that f'r ya," Ben told Nils. "We c'n keep ya away from Orlando--f'r a while at least--but eventually we'll have to go back to work n' you're on y'r own! At some point ol' Son y're gonna hafta develop a backbone! Either that, r just give up `n let them bastards have their way!"
Nils and John-Thomas looked shocked but it was Cliff who spoke up. "It's your choice," he told the man as bluntly as Ben had. "You can go back to that destructive relationship or you can choose to move on. Escaping an abusive relationship isn't easy and you won't do it until you've hit bottom! Then you can start to climb back up!"
"If addictin' ya t' drugs, stealin' from ya an' rapin' ya ain't hittin' bottom I don't know what is!" Ben said sadly. "Nils--I wanna help ya--truly I do! Hell, man we ALL wanna help ya but we've done all we can! Now it's up to you!"
"Maybe a version of a `Twelve Step' program?" John-Thomas suggested. "I mean you realize you have an addiction and you seem to be powerless over that. Now it's a matter of taking a moral inventory and making sure you don't place yourself in dangerous positions!"
"Which starts by you cutting off communication with that asshole Orlando Ojeda!" Cliff told him. "Don't make us take your cell phone and control your computer access!"
"We ain't doin' that!" Ben interjected firmly. "If Nils chooses t' go down that road there's nothin' we c'n do about it! Your choice, your life ol' Son!"
"You must think I'm such a weakling!" the blond triathlete said with a dispirited shake of his head. "Hell, I think I'm a weakling!"
"You're not a weakling," Cliff said, "your just in love! And sometimes `love' is toxic..."
"Son--sometimes love just isn't enough..." Ben put in. "All th' love in th' world ain't gonna change Orlando Ojeda! No matter how much ya give im that boy will still take more! An' he'll keep takin' til you've got nothin' left, That's just the God's Honest Truth!"
"I know," Nils said. "But that doesn't make it any easier..."
"Treat it like any addiction," the Texan advised. "One day at a time!"
Ben might have said more but Levi Evans the new Druid Initiate of the Henge came up. "The final touches on the float are finished!" he announced. "What do you think guys?"
"Great job!" John-Thomas said. "It expresses both Gay Pride and our Druid faith! Love the design Levi and the Engineering is perfect! And, Roops, nice design on the robes!"
"Happy to do it!" Levi said with a grateful smile. He genuinely seemed pleased that his work was so well received. "Here's hoping the `Sons' and their allies don't find a way to fuck up the whole parade!"
"Not likely," Roops replied. "The local gendarmes' are all over the parade and there's tons of media out so the cops will have no choice BUT to intervene if the bad guys' act up!"
"Now we just have to hope our supporters don't do somethin' stupid!" the lanky redhead said. "So--did you get my robe done Roops?"
"I made yours in turquoise in honor of Llyr!" the chestnut-haired man replied. "Hope it fits!" Levi stripped to his skivvies and pulled the robe over his head and tied it with some yellow robe he'd brought from his duty station. "Ooh--nice touch!" Roops said. "Very symbolic!"
"Hey Druids--Roops!" The group turned to see Steven "Santa Klausen had walked up to their float. "Love the Rainbow Henge!"
"Santa!" Roops bounced over to give the older man a hug and a sloppy wet kiss. "What are you doing here, big guy?"
The older man pointed to the pink tee that tightly stretched over his bulky frame. It read GAY VETERANS ALLIANCE. "I'm riding with my boys--and girls--in the GVA!" he replied. "I couldn't resist showing off my new Livewire!"
"Livewire?" Ben was frankly confused.
"It's an all-electric bike from Harley Davidson!" the older man said. "I couldn't quite afford a Fusion Power Sphere for my bike but the Longlife ™ Battery lets me travel for around a thousand miles per charge! You should check one out!"
"I'll do that!" Ben promised. "So--I didn't know you served..."
"Twelve years USMC!" Steve said. "Ooh-rah! I did three tours in the Middle East. I know--it surprises a lot of people when I tell `em that! They don't expect a writer of Romance Novels can also be a badass!"
"I stand corrected!" the Texan said, surprised. "You'll have to give me some info on the GVA--I might have to join!"
"I'll do that!" the older man promised. Then: "well--I just wanted to drop by and say `howdy' before the parade started. If things go as scheduled, we should be ready to roll inside of fifteen minutes!"
"Here's hoping the rest of the guys get here..." Roops commented. "Otherwise this float is going to be mighty empty!"
Aside from a few random protesters gathered in small knots along the route the parade went off without a hitch. Nils kept an eye out on Ben's right for potential trouble which, thankfully, hadn't come. Still, the Texan was glad to have this chore finished. Once the float was safely towed back to Seacliff Manor Ben unhitched the trailer from his pickup and headed back into town for a lunch date with Ethan Gray at Tacos Locos, a new yet highly-regarded Mexican restaurant on the edge of the Arts District.
Parking was never the easiest in the Arts District and during Pride Weekend it was close to impossible. The lot at Tacos Locos was full as were the surrounding streets. Ben finally nabbed a space on Canal Street close to an abandoned Firehouse with a FOR SALE sign on one of the roll-up doors. The big man stopped to take an appraising look at the imposing brick structure and found himself imagining what he could do to turn the place into a residence; he loved his brother dearly and was beginning to be quite fond of John-Thomas as well but in all honesty the man realized he was going to need his own place eventually. Why not this one?
Ben stood admiring the place for a few minutes when the PING of an incoming text snapped him out of his reverie. WHERE RU? Belatedly, the man realized he was late for his lunch date with Ethan!
SORRY, he typed back. COULDN'T FIND A PARKING PLACE--BE THERE SHORTLY 😊. Ben got lost on his way to the restaurant and he half wondered if his date would give up and start without him but he was pleased to see Ethan waiting for him on the expansive patio. The Texan slipped in through the wrought iron gateway and made his way to the table.
"You've got an--interesting expression on your face..." the smaller man commented. "Are you OK?"
"I'm thinkin' `bout doin' somethin' that just might be th' dumbest thing I ever did?" Ben admitted.
"If it involves kissing me right here in front of God and everybody I'm 100% IN!" the other man replied with a teasing smile. Then; "but that's not it, is it? Just kidding...!"
The Texan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. (Much as he'd love to kiss Ethan on the spot, he wasn't sure he was ready to take that step--yet... "I love m' brother," he said after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Seacliff is a wonderful home an' th' grounds `r' lovely..."
"But it's not YOUR home..." the other man finished Ben's thought. "You are starting to feel like you need a place of your own--so what did you find?"
"D' y' know th' Firehouse on Canal Street?" the big man asked. "I was thinkin' `bout turnin' that into a home f'r myself. Crazy, right?"
"Depends on your definition of crazy..." the other man replied. "Yeah, it could be a BIIIIIIIIIIG project--and, depending on the condition of the place, it could easily turn into a money pit! Add to that the difficulties of dealing with a crooked city government and the restrictions that com with a historic structure and you could have quite a mess on your hands! Still, if you can deal with all the above it could be an amazing home! There's a decent dock complete with a large boat lift that's in good shape! DeKoven Canal connects the Outer Harbor with the Inner Bay and you can get to the ocean easily enough if you are into that sort of thing. I don't see anything wrong with at least doing some exploration! Find out what the place costs and how much repair work you'd need to do to make it livable. Once you've done your due diligence you can decide whether or not to make a bid on the project!"
"I had a second career as a home renovator in Houston," Ben told the other man. "I started with our house an' we did so well I started flippin' houses on th' side--made a pretty penny on it too!"
"Then you're one step ahead of the game already!" Ethan told him. "Besides, judging by that look on your face I have a feeling you're going to do it no matter what anybody else says!"
Ben had to smile at this. "It's scary how well ya know me after such a short time!" he commented. "If th' numbers work out I s'pect I WILL do that renovation. Even if I don't live there th' property ought t' sell f'r a pretty penny!"
"Pretty much anything in this town will turn a good profit--if you're careful," the other man allowed. "When the median price of a single-family home is $950,000 it would be hard NOT to turn a profit--even on a half-assed reno!"
"Money ain't a problem..." the Texan rumbled. Ben might have said more but his next words were cut off by the sounds of breaking glass. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. "That came from th' bookstore down th' way!" He was off and running with Ethan and several others close on his heels.
Fahrenheit 451 was one of the last "independent" bookstores in Kings Harbor; they competed with Amazon and Barnes and Noble by making sure they had excellent service and a devoted clientele. The store hosted regular events such as book signings and author readings. They were holding a series of LGBTQ-themed events in honor of Pride Weekend; this is what had attracted half a dozen "Sons of Purity" and a coterie of cheering fundamentalist allies. One of the old store's Plate Glass windows had already been broken by a baseball bat-wielding Son and he was about to go after the other side! "DROP IT!" Ben thundered in a voice that brooked no argument. "Drop it NOW!"
The bat-wielder stopped just long enough for the big Texan to make his way to the group. "Hey everybody!" the young tough said, trying to sound big and brave. "It's the fag Druid's one-eyed pig of a brother!" The crowd hooted their appreciation which gave Ben the chance to knock the poser flat with one punch! "Ow!" the man on the ground whimpered, "that HURT! No fair!"
Ben couldn't hold back a derisive laugh. "Son--ya just smashed a glass window I'm purty sure that didn't belong t' ya an' ya wanna talk about FAIR?" He laughed again.
The young man tried scrabbling for his bat but Ben kicked it away and followed that up with a quick strong kick to the ribs. "Stay down boy!" he growled. The boy stayed down. "Now! Th' rest o' you--VAMOOSE!"
"Hey, we out number you five-to-one!" one of the other Sons spoke up. "We're gonna kick your ass!"
"I don't think so..." the Texan replied with deceptive mildness. "You're carryin' a hideout gun--but you won't be able t' reach it `fore I kick th' livin' shit outta ya! M' friend Ethan here c'n take out you two boys with the knives--
"And we'll take the other two!" Ben turned to see "Santa" stepping out of the bookstore. He was followed by another man in a pink GVA tee shirt. This one was missing a leg above the knee but he'd clearly seen action, probably Iraq or Afghanistan Ben guessed. There was something familiar about the beefy blond that made the Texan wonder if he'd seen him before.
"Yeah Dude, don't hog all the glory for yourselves!" the stranger commented before cracking his knuckles. "We were right in the middle of a Reading and you spoiled it!"
"Like we should be afraid of a one-eyed fat pig, a little queer, a gimp and some old fart?" The "Black Shirt" might have said more but "Santa' took him out with one quick gut-punch. All but one of the others moved in at this point but the older man took them out as quickly and easily as the first one had gone down with some able assistance from the one-legged Veteran. "Burkhalter--call the cops!"
"That's a big ol' `negatory'!" the one called "Burkhalter" said. He was tall, blond and clearly in the best shape of the group with looks that would have done a Nazi "poster boy" proud; he also seemed to have at least half a brain. "First of all, we--and by that, I mean YOU--just committed vandalism so that puts you in the wrong from the start!"
"The cops are on our side!" one of the "Blackshirts" protested.
"You want to take that chance?" Burkhalter said with a derisive sneer. "I don't! Especially not this weekend! The Media is all over this event and they won't paint us in a good light for trashing a business and rioting! I don't know about you losers but I'm not anxious to start my career with a felony conviction!"
"But it's a fag bookstore!" another one protested.
"Doesn't matter what it is!" the "Nazi Poster Boy" replied. "It's still a business that isn't doing anything illegal!"
"It's against God's Law!"
"Then God will deal with it in his own good time!" Burkhalter snapped at his "friends". "Last, and certainly not least, do you want it to get around that you got your asses whipped by a fat slob, an old fart and a gimp? Can you imagine the hit your `street cred' is going to take when word gets out? Me. I'm out!" The handsome young man turned on his heel and walked away giving Ben and the boys a view of a magnificent ass.
"I'd hardly call you a slob," the familiar stranger allowed, "and I'm hardly a gimp! Such cheek!"
"I am, however, an old fart!" "Santa" put in.
The "Blackshirts' started to move away but Ben wouldn't let the bat-wielder leave with his friends. "Ah-ah!" he growled. "YOU'RE stickin' around boy! You got two choices--pay f'r the window you broke or I call th' cops! MAKE ONE!"
"I don't have to do anything you say!" the kid sniveled.
"Cuz I ain't th' boss of you?" Ben snapped. "Son--I'm STRONGER n you, I'm MEANER n you'll ever be an', in case ya haven't noticed, y'r posse has left ya high n' dry! In other words boy--y'r options r' mighty limited right now!"
The kid looked around and found his Blackshirt friends and his "Christian" supporters had vanished into the crowd; now all that was left was a big angry bear and three men who had made his friends look like fools. "Look, dude--I'll pay for the window!" he finally decided.
"I think we can get the owner to agree to that," Santa opined. "Just realize--we WILL make sure you do or we'll find you and take the price out of your ass?" Are we clear?" The kid nodded and the men escorted him inside to make payment arrangements...
By the time Ben and Ethan got back to Tacos Locos it was closer to dinner than lunch. "Santa" Klausen and the stranger accompanied the two men. "Sorry to ruin your date guys," the older, white-bearded man commented (but his expression said he wasn't sorry in the least).
Ben took it in stride. "I feel like I should know you," he said to the stranger, "but I find I can't recall your name..."
"I don't think we've met," the stranger replied. "I'm Greg Donovan--I think you have my Nephew Corey in one of your summer school classes. That is, if you're the `Ben Dover' who is teaching at Kings College..."
"That `ud be me," the Texan agreed. "That boy is quite th' little scamp!"
"Has he hit on you yet?" Greg asked with a crooked smile.
"He did!" the Texan replied. "I shut `im down though."
Greg nodded. "Good enough," he agreed. "Corey is a smart kid but he's got a Daddy thing that just won't quit! I've had to shut the kid down more than once myself!"
"He's got a lot on th' ball," the big brown-haired man commented, "but I have a hard-and-fast rule about not getting' involved with someone I have authority over--no matter when, where or who! I learned that lesson back in my Army days!"
"Is that where you lost your eye?" Greg wanted to know.
"I lost that on th' mean streets o' th' Houston suburbs," the big man replied with deceptive lightness. "A drug cartel decided t' send a message' t' the Houston PD so they shot up m' SUV. My wife, our unborn daughter n' m' Son didn't survive but I did!"
"I'm so sorry!" Greg gave the other man's hand a comforting squeeze.
"They're waitin' f'r me on t' other side," Ben said with absolute confidence.
"Good you haven't lost your faith..." "Santa" allowed.
"I did--f'r a while..." Ben admitted, "but then I got m'self jerked back t' reality `n got m' sorry ass dragged out here t' California!" He gave Ethan a fond smile. "Things have been looking up since then!"
END CHAPTER NINE--more to come shortly!