Walkin' After Midnight by Hank Edwards

Author:Hank Edwards [Edwards, Hank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2013-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

A steady rain soaked Floyd to the skin by the time he made the dash from the door of the bus to the relative safety of a shop doorway. The night was warm and close, more humid here in Nashville than this time of year back in Michigan, and Floyd was happy that he’d found a small studio apartment with A/C and heat included in the rent.

Now he just needed to find Gavin.

Nashville was chock full of small bars and coffee houses that offered live entertainment, and he’d been to maybe a third of them. It was daunting at times, this crazy quest of his, but Floyd was determined not to mess up his chances with Gavin once again. It had been two months since he’d seen Gavin at Dudebaker’s that last night, and for all Floyd knew Gavin had found someone new, someone who would treat him better than Floyd had back in Michigan. Floyd was determined to plead his case, get Gavin to see what he meant to him, but to do that he needed to find the man.

Floyd made the rounds of all the bars each week, checking the posters hung in the men’s room and on the information board, looking for Gavin’s name. He’d heard a lot of singers lately, some so good Floyd was surprised they hadn’t yet been asked to sign a recording deal. Others were good, but lacked the spark that Gavin possessed. Seeing these singers only made Floyd want even more to find Gavin. He longed so much to hear Gavin’s sweet voice and look into those electric blue eyes it was like a physical ache.

Tonight was his night off from tending bar at Sequins & Spurs, the gay country bar that hosted weekly drag shows as well as sing-a-longs. It was a wild and unpredictable place, and the drag queens fawned over Floyd as he served them discounted drinks. He loved it. This move south had been the best decision he’d ever made.

There was just one thing missing.

Barbara Jade, one of the older drag queens whose lip synch performances to any of Adele’s songs were flawless, had told Floyd about a new singer at the bars around town.

“He’s from up north,” she’d said as she stirred her Manhattan. “He’s got the sweetest voice and bluest eyes I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Floyd had asked, a tiny flame of hope sparking to life inside him.

Barbara Jade had nodded. “I know you’ve been looking for someone around here, haven’t you? A singer?”

“Gavin Hunt.”

“Hmm, not sure I caught his name,” Barbara Jade had said. “But there was a sadness about this guy. Someone had broken his heart, I could tell. Only someone with a broken heart could sing Patsy Cline songs like the sweet angel herself, may she rest in peace.”

So now here Floyd stood, dripping wet in a doorway across the street from the Six Strings bar, watching people hurry through the rain to file inside. He was nervous and excited and

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