Belladonna Arms 02 - Work in Progress by John Inman

Author:John Inman [Inman, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-09-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

IT WAS Arthur who squealed like a little piggy. There was no mistaking his screeching falsetto. So much for his cowboy drag. And while he was squealing, somebody’s hands came out of the dark and pulled me into the middle of two really nice arms. No kidding. They were burly as all get out with big rolling biceps that felt hard and soft and warm and cool and comforting and scary all at the same time. I wasn’t sure they were Milan’s arms until his mouth found mine and he stuck his tongue down my throat. Then I was sure.

“I can recognize his kiss in the dark,” a little voice screamed inside my head. “I know what the man tastes like now. How cool is that?”

Milan mumbled words around our kiss. “What are you thinking?”

With his lips still on mine, I mumbled words right back. “I’m thinking I never want the lights to go on.”

Pete lit a candle, and suddenly the room wasn’t dark any longer. “Well, shit,” the little voice in my head chimed in again.

“Sorry, folks,” Pete announced, holding the candle high. “Looks like a power outage. But not to worry. Sylvia and I have tons of candles.”

Great.

Soon there were lighted candles everywhere. Milan and I pried ourselves apart, not because we wanted to but because we thought we should. We wandered into the kitchen hand in hand and piled a couple of plates high with lasagna and antipasto (it was an Italian buffet) before plopping ourselves down in a corner of the living room floor out of everyone’s way, where we quietly began stuffing ourselves. Not once as we ate did we not touch each other in some manner or other. The bumping of a knee, the brushing of a shoulder, the reaching out of a hand.

The storm outside gathered strength. The neon sign on top of the building rattled somewhere in the stratosphere far above our heads. And nearer at hand, another storm appeared to be brewing. It was the storm between Ramon and ChiChi. Their voices were getting louder, and they were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

I glanced over to where they were sitting, still by the coffee table as they had been all evening. The moment I glanced in their direction, I saw ChiChi snort a line of powder from the back of his hand. It was obviously either meth or coke, and Ramon was looking extremely unhappy about what his lover was doing, as well he should have been.

“Don’t do that here!” Ramon hissed.

But ChiChi waved him off. “Shut the fuck up. Leave me alone.” ChiChi’s words were slurred. Not only was he snorting drugs, but he was drunk on top of it. Not the ideal dinner guest by a long shot.

Pete seemed to agree with me. Always a gentle person, he knelt behind the two with a hand on each of their shoulders and whispered quiet words into their ears. An expectant hush settled over the room.

ChiChi wore a leer on his face as he listened to Pete’s whispered words, while Ramon merely appeared embarrassed.

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