Underneath It All by Jack Bumgardner

Author:Jack Bumgardner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Gay Mainstream
Publisher: Wilde City Press
Published: 2015-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The list of properties gave him an idea, and he knew with certainty that it would work, because Armin Bleu was at the center of this weird tale. So, he drove up to the Georgian mansion on the list and stopped the Mustang in front of the wrought-iron gate.

The house itself was of an ornate brick design, denoting its age and relationship to the past of the city it now belonged to. It must be over one hundred years old, Crosby thought as he examined the brick pillars and arched red door. And its location just outside of town told him this was once the country home of a wealthy owner. Yes, he thought, it all fits. So far.

Oddly, the gate was open. He drove them through it toward the house, and as he got closer, it struck him that he had seen the house before. Hell, he’d even been in it before. He and Erroll had attended a benefit there some years before. Some gay thing. Rich gay men were always throwing parties in those days to show off their homes. And suddenly, he also remembered the man who had thrown the soiree.

“They ain’t gonna let us in this place,” Willis said, noticeably squirming in his seat.

Crosby kept silent, but he thought, oh yes they will.

And they did. Just as he and Willis got out of the car, they were met at the door by a distinguished white-haired gentleman with a crocodile smile and an air of expectation that told Crosby he had been waiting for them. As they approached him, he silently swept them in with a weathered hand and led them to the obviously extensive gardens in the back of the house.

Silently, the white-haired man seated all of them around a beautiful patio dining table and served them all chilled glasses of iced tea.

Seating himself between Crosby and Willis, he smiled again, took a dainty sip of tea and said, “So, Mr. Comeaux, we’ve met before. And I believe you know my son.”

Just then, Armin appeared from the back of the house and casually sat down at the table. This time, his apparel was more refined and his hair was cut and groomed. Crosby had to stifle a snicker when he looked at this “kid” who had brought so much trouble into his life. Now, he looked his true age, which Crosby estimated to be closer to twenty-five. But he had other matters to pursue, so he responded as glibly as he could.

“I certainly have. And you’ve met my associate, Willis Threlkeld, I’m sure. Since all of you have created this little drama for my benefit.”

Willis choked on his ice tea, and his eyes went wide. Crosby shot him a look that dared him to say anything. Sitting back, he wiped his mouth and cast his eyes down to his hands.

The white-haired man chortled at Willis’s response, then laced his fingers together. “It wasn’t meant to get that elaborate, Mr. Comeaux.”

“Well, it did, Mr. Bleu. Several years ago, my boyfriend and I—“

“Yes, Mr.

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