Uninvited by B.G. Thomas

Uninvited by B.G. Thomas

Author:B.G. Thomas [Thomas, B.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64405-861-9
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2020-06-15T16:00:00+00:00


IT WAS a nice little place, a six-unit brick building a few blocks from Troost. The kitchen was tiny, as it was in most of the old apartment buildings built at the turn of the last century, mine included. But whereas mine was a disaster, his was an organized miracle. That he’d made something that I found as complicated and messy as lasagna in such a small area was a wonder to me.

“The secret is you don’t cook the pasta ahead of time,” Myles said. “You prepare everything the night before—layering like usual, meat, cheese, lasagna pasta—but you use the pasta dry. During the night, the pasta absorbs moisture from the sauce. None of it gets broken or shredded that way.”

“Hmmm…,” I said. “Of course, it’s not a secret now.”

“It is if you don’t tell,” he said and then shocked the shit out of me by kissing me. Not on the mouth, on the tip of the nose, but it was a kiss! That guy had kissed me.

While the lasagna cooked, and after he cut up some bread and slathered it with garlic butter and set it aside to pop in the oven at the last minute, he poured us a couple of cocktails—rum, of course—and we went out onto his balcony.

“You know, I’d never guess you were into vodou. You. Your apartment. It doesn’t look the least… ah….”

“Vodou-ie?” Myles asked, giving me a goofy grin.

I shook my head. “Not the least bit.”

“But you saw the saints?”

I stopped, turned around, and looked back through the glass doors. Had I?

“There’s one right here,” Myles said, and pointed to a small figurine on the ledge of the balcony. It looked a lot like a statue of the Virgin Mary, except she was black. “Our Lady of Czestochowa, the Polish black Madonna, represents Ezili Danto.”

“The lesbian Lwa,” I said.

“Exactly.” His smile got bigger. “You remembered. Some people think of her as an evil spirit, all rage and anger. When she was alive, it is said she was instrumental in the Haitian revolution and that slavers cut out her tongue for what she did. But she is a loving mother and gives her children the strength to face any obstacle. She can be a fierce warrior, but she is a faithful protector and fights hard for her devotees. She is one of my patrons, and I’ve been praying to her a lot these last few days.”

“I—I see.”

“I can show you my altar if you want.”

“That’s up to you.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “I have my reasons.”

I didn’t care what his reasons were. I just knew he’d used the word “tomorrow,” and I was kind of hoping he was thinking what I was thinking.

We sat and chatted, about things vodou and non-vodou, and watched people walking their dogs—Kansas City was a very dog-friendly city. A man across the street worked on his glorious garden. Most of the flowers were done for the year, but he had some rose bushes that were going full guns and some tall purple daisy-like flowers that were a cool splendor.



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