Bad Reputation by Ajax Bell

Author:Ajax Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 20th Century, Seattle series, lgbt contemporary fiction, self discovery, gay literary, queer literature, Coming of Age, queer romance, Gay Romance, lgbt romance
Publisher: Jugum Press
Published: 2016-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

17.

Topping out the Speedometer

“DID YOU HAVE A GOOD TRIP?” Frankie asked when Shane walked into the gleaming white-and-silver living room on Saturday night. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“It was terrible. No, that’s not true. I just want to leave it all behind me. Forget.”

“But it’s done now? Ties to the old homestead severed?”

“I got all the stuff I wanted, and got it stored.”

On the awkward drive back, Bash insisted on storing Shane’s belongings at his family farm until Shane got a place. Despite the imposition on Bash, the savings and safety of that offer was too good to pass up. Bash dropped Shane off with assurances that every tool would be locked up but immediately available whenever Shane wanted any of them. They made plans for Shane to come out to the Kamenev family farm the next weekend.

“Did you go by yourself?”

Frankie’s question dug at the truth: not his issues with going back home, but that Shane needed to forget his feelings for Bash. “No, a friend went with me.”

Frankie’s silence went on long enough that Shane protested that there was nothing to be jealous about, to assure Frankie as he repeatedly told himself: it meant nothing; just friends. But Shane got only one word out before Frankie cut him off.

“So I have competition?” Frankie’s smug smile resurfaced though his eyes were sharp and curious as he came closer and put his hands on Shane’s hips. Eyebrow arched and eyes narrow, Frankie was exceptionally handsome and a bit scary.

Shane laughed it off. “No, nothing like that, just friends for sure.” It pained him to say that. After spending a day with Bash, Shane worked harder to believe he was happy with only friendship between them.

Frankie gripped Shane’s hips tighter and danced them around the room. “I was going to take you to the club, show you off tonight. But maybe tonight you just need to forget? I might have just the thing for that. I need to make a quick call first.”

While Shane waited for Frankie to return, his brain raged with all the reasons to feel sorry for himself. Then self-pity vanished as the bitter drip of cocaine burned the back of his throat.

◊

Not long after Shane got his driver’s license, he took Granddad’s old ’66 Plymouth out onto the Olympic Peninsula, down the long straight roads ignored by the tribal police because of their complete lack of traffic. On the way back, knowing the road, Shane topped out the speedometer, over 120 miles per hour, slowing only when the Plymouth began to shake.

The first rush of cocaine offered the same hazardous freedom: teetering on the edge of control; exhilaration cresting with a purely physical rush.

Shane lay across Frankie’s lap, head and upper back supported by Frankie’s thighs.

“That feels so fucking good. God, don’t stop.”

Frankie’s hands trailed over Shane’s bare arms, rubbed harder over his t-shirt–covered chest. The cotton was so soft and scratchy at the same time. Shane arched into the sensation.

“Take off your shirt.”

Shane obeyed, half-sitting to pull it over his head.

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