2. Chapter Two #2
“Honey, it’s paying for your chance to shine. Nothing is more important to a parent than giving their child that chance. Now take it. Don’t make me use your middle name.”
I choked out a soft gruff laugh then pulled her in for a hug. When we broke apart I took the money from her. It felt wrong. She’d worked double shifts for months just to squirrel this away for me. It felt greedy.
“I’ll repay you. I promise. If I don’t get picked I’ll grab a second job or something to repay—”
“Your happiness is all the repayment I need.” She gave my cheek a pat.
The thunder of the twins and Ivy racing down the hall to dive into the celebratory chips, dips, and cold cans of sugary soda filled the small apartment.
Someday I’d pay her back tenfold. That was a vow I made to myself and my father who was watching his boy with what I hoped was pride.
***
Meetings with Lonnie were usually short.
My boss wasn’t keen on me. I didn’t like him.
Whenever we had things to share it was relayed with as little contact as possible.
I still thought he assumed if he spent too much time with me he would get contact gayness.
Or perhaps he was worried he might actually learn to like a queer person and wouldn’t that just turn his little hateful world on its flappy ear?
Me going to him rarely happened but my mother had been harping on me for three weeks now to let Lonnie know I might be taking a long vacation from work.
With the audition video surely in the hands of the producers of étoiles de Style – it had been twenty-one days since Ivy had shown me the final cut then sent it off with a shout of merriment – Mom felt it was only professional to let Lonnie know ahead of the August 1 announcement on the shows new website.
Every time I went to the webpage my gut clenched.
And not only because it showed a glorious image of Claude outside his school but because I might maybe possibly could be standing on that street in Paris in a month.
Which was…yeah, dream come true but right now I was standing outside Lonnie’s office door coated with sweat and feed dust. Squaring my shoulders I knocked.
He barked out a reply to enter so I slipped in, quickly closing the door to keep the cool air from the only air conditioner at the mill inside his personal space.
“Graham. Did you get the order for Millard Timony bagged and ready for pickup.”
“I did. It’s on the loading dock.”
“Good.” And there we were, two men who would rather be run through the roller mill to be ground into chicken feed than making conversation.
“I needed to talk to you about something,” I said and got a skeptical look. Like he couldn’t begin to grasp what I could possibly have to say to him. “I might need four to six weeks off in September.”
He blinked pale blue eyes. “You planning on getting sick?”
“No, I’ve auditioned for a television reality show set in Paris and I might need that time off to fly over to shoot the show.”
His lips quirked. “A tv show. In Paris.” The chuckle broke free. The asshole.
“Yeah, a fashion design show.”
“Right, of course.” He sat back to rest his hands on his big gut. It had been many years since Lonnie had worked the docks. Carrying hundred pound feed bags kept a man slim, toned, and strong. Lonnie was none of those three now. “A fashion show. In gay Paree. Why am I not surprised?”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “Right, Paris. Shooting could run—”
“Listen, Graham, I appreciate you coming to me to tell me this but in case you haven’t noticed this isn’t one of those pasty union jobs.
If you don’t show up for work without a doctor’s note you’re fired.
I got a hundred men lined up who would love to work here and not one of them would skip off to France on a whim to make bonnets and frilly things for ladies. ”
He was really pissing me off. “Fine. I’m giving you my two week notice only because my mother would tear me a new one if I didn’t give you that modicum of respect. Not that you deserve it.”
“It’ll actually do this mill good to have you gone. I kept you around because of that DEI shit but now no one buys into that no more I can bring in a real man. One the farmers won’t be worried about making passes at them as they pick up feed.”
“Right, like my dream man is someone with brown teeth from chewing tobacco who reeks of cow shit.”
“Get back to work before I can your flaming ass right now and to hell with being a good boss. I can do that for inter-sub-ration reasons.”
“Did you mean insubordination?”
His paunchy face went red. “That’s what I said. Now get to work Mr. TV Star.”
I bit back the massive FUCK YOU on my tongue.
I’d need the cash for living expenses if I made it onto the show.
Huge if but I had to cling to the dream.
So with a grunt that could have meant a million things but really meant ‘You’re a dickhead’ I left his office while he tittered about me thinking I was good enough to be on a tv show.
I may have slammed the door closed with a touch more vigor than was required but it felt good.
This town was quicksand to those who dared to be different.
Good thing I had a long neck and even longer legs or I’d be swallowing silt.
***
July was hot, boring and slow.