Anything Could Happen E-Book

B.G. Thomas

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 370

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Moving to Kansas City could be the best thing Austin Shelbourne has ever done. For a start, he can stop living a lie and finally come out of the closet. And there's a chance, though slim, that he might be able to locate the love of his life, Todd Burton. It had seemed like a good idea when he seduced his friend, but Todd freaked out and vanished. Austin hopes to find Todd, make things right between them, and win his love. But when he meets actor Guy Campbell, things get even more confusing. The moment Guy sets eyes on Austin, he knows Austin is The One. But Austin makes it clear he feels a responsibility to Todd, and Guy has some dark secrets of his own. He's found redemption in acting and directing, but worries that if Austin learns the truth, he might not be able bear it. And what if Todd accepts Austin's apology and the love Austin offers? Guy wants Austin desperately, but he also wants him to be happy. In the play of life, with the happiness of good men in the balance, anything could happen.

Leseprobe

By B.G. THOMAS

NOVELS

All Alone in a Sea of Romance

The Boy Who Came In From the Cold

Anything Could Happen

NOVELLAS

All Snug

Bianca’s Plan

Christmas Cole

Christmas Wish

Desert Crossing

How Could Love Be Wrong?

It Had to Be You

Soul of the Mummy

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SWSte 2, PMB# 279Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Anything Could Happen

Copyright © 2013 by B.G. Thomas

Cover Art by Aaron Anderson

[email protected]

Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-62798-026-5

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-027-2

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

September 2013

Passages from the play Tearoom Tango © Douglas Holtz, 2008. All rights reserved.

Used with permission of Douglas Holtz.

The quote from Torch Song Trilogy © 1998.

Used by permission of Harvey Fierstein. Thank you, Harvey!

Lyrics to Superphallicrealisticdoubleendeddildo © Amos Joseph Bullock, 1996. All rights reserved.

Used with permission of Amos Joseph Bullock.

This is for

Joanne “Jo” Papin

Jan 27, 1958 – July 10, 2013

She was one of the first people I ever told I was gay

She loved me

She was proud of my success

She always took my calls, no matter how late

And she was a voice in the dark….

Jo, I will miss you forever

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to Cynthia Levin, Producing Artistic Director of the Unicorn Theatre, for the tour and a hundred and one answered questions. What a delightful woman. Any mistakes about the stage and theater made herein are mine and not hers.

Also, thanks to my dear actor friends Curtis Smith and Paul Burns, as well as a host of actors, directors, producers, and more who were there every step of the way.

And of course to my selfless editors Sal Davis, Chris Miles, Rowan Speedwell, Kat Weller, and of course Andi Byassee—I don’t know what I would do without you!

“If life is just a stage, then we are all running around ad-libbing, with absolutely no clue what the plot is. Maybe that’s why we don’t know whether it’s a comedy or tragedy.”

~ Bill Watterson

“Where were you, Katmandu or something?”

~ Sam Shepard—Fool for Love

ACT ONE

AUSTINSHELBOURNE knew the minute he walked through his great-uncle Boden’s door that the old man was gay. There was no mistaking it—the most naïve person in the world would have figured it out. A mannequin would have seen it. It wasn’t so much the man. Uncle Boden was a rather nondescript older gentleman: probably in his late seventies/early eighties, balding, slim, blue-gray eyes, slightly stooped, and wearing gray slacks and a frayed brown sweater. Nothing obvious; no gay pride T-shirt.

No. It was the apartment that said it all. With the three-foot-tall, gold spray-painted statue of David just inside the doorway, the print of a nude young man on the beach on one wall, the fringe on the lampshades, and the scarlet Chinese pillows—not to mention the yapping red Pomeranian—the old man might as well have screamed, “I’m a homosexual!”

Gay? Uncle Boden, gay? Austin found all his anxiety and worries about his 200-plus-mile move to Kansas City were submerged under a wave of complete surprise.

“It is so good to see you, my boy,” cried Uncle Boden over the equally exuberant greetings of his little dog. “Lucille! Stop that! You’ve done your job. Be a good girl now and hush.” The dog stopped—mostly—and sat at her master’s feet, looking up with adoring brown eyes and only one or two barks.

“Ah…. Good to see you too, Uncle Boden.”

Leading Austin to a threadbare couch, Uncle Boden said, “Sit. Please. You must be exhausted.”

“Not too bad,” Austin replied, but took the offer of the couch. A small sculpture of two men wrestling, one actually clutching the cock and balls of the other, sat on the coffee table. He tried not to react.

Uncle Boden smiled and sat down next to him, and Lucille jumped up between them. “I am so honored you agreed to come stay with me for a while, my boy. My God, you’ve grown. Has it been… ten years?”

Austin thought about it a moment. Ten years might be right. He hadn’t seen his uncle since at least fourth grade. “It was the big family reunion,” he answered. He remembered a sad man, and yes, he remembered the dog.

“Yes. Yes, it was ten years. I was still driving then. They won’t let me now, the bastards. I miss driving. Now I have to depend on the kindness of a couple of the tenants when I need to get around. Shopping. Groceries.”

“Well, you have me now,” Austin said.

“For a while at least, yes?” Uncle Boden petted his little dog, who immediately climbed into his lap for more intimacy. “I am sure living with an old man will soon cramp your style. You’re on your own for the first time. You’ll want to sow your wild oats. You won’t want to worry about me. Or try to explain me.”

“Explain?”

His uncle rolled his eyes. Spread his arms and waved to indicate the room. The painting of The Blue Boy on one wall, the small statue of a nude young man examining the bottom of his foot on the end table next to the couch.

Austin blushed. Uncle Boden was addressing the elephant in the room. Austin shook his head. It was all so weird. The last thing he’d expected was to arrive at his uncle Boden’s and find out the old man was gay.

Like me.

Austin turned to his uncle, a hundred questions in his mind. Gay. His great-uncle Boden was gay. He didn’t know what to say. “You’re gay!” he blurted and clamped a hand over this mouth.

His uncle’s eyebrows popped up. “You’re surprised? I figured everyone in Buckman talked about ‘bachelor’ Bodie.”

“No,” Austin said. “I mean, Gram and Gramps call you a bachelor, but—”

“My dear boy.” His uncle chuckled. “That’s old-people speak for ‘queer.’”

“Oh,” Austin said. It was?

“What gave me away? Was it perhaps Hercules and Diomedes there?” He pointed at the wrestling statue. “They’ve got quite a grip on each other, heh?”

Austin felt his cheeks heat up even more but didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“Can you imagine something like that in today’s wrestling? I would be addicted to such television antics. I might even go back to college and see if they’d let an old man join the team.”

Austin burst into laughter, then slapped a hand over his mouth once again.

“What? Am I embarrassing you?”

“I-I don’t know… I wasn’t expecting…. This is all such a surprise. And you’re so, ah—”

“Old?” Uncle Boden asked. “You didn’t think homosexuality was anything new, did you? I dare say Cain and Abel kept each other warm on a cold night. Brothers do, you know. And there were no girls. Maybe that’s the real reason Cain killed his brother. Maybe Abel was holding out—being a cocktease.”

Austin’s mouth fell open, and he quickly closed it. Was this really happening? “I was going to say ‘you’re so open,’” he said.

“Oh.” Uncle Boden rolled his eyes once more. “Sorry. It’s just so nice to have someone here I can talk to.” He looked at Austin for a moment, as if waiting for a reply. “Austin. My sister sent you to me for a reason. She said you had a mission. All fired up to move to Kansas City to look for some friend of yours. And considering my ‘disposition,’ she hoped I might be a good influence on you.”

Austin nodded. Gram had said something similar to him. Originally, it had been his plan to save up enough money to get his own apartment¸ but it had been her idea he stay with her brother instead. “Just until you get on your feet,” she’d advised. “You’d do him a world of good as well. You’re so handy, and you might be able to fix some things around the building. He’s the manager, you know. Plus, all his friends are gone. He needs the company. And you’ll have so much to talk about—you have a lot in common.”

We do? Austin had wondered that day. What would he and an old man have to talk about?

And then, sitting on Uncle Bodie’s couch, the light bulb went on.

Oh my God.

Gay.

Gram knows I’m gay.

How? How had she figured it out? He hadn’t really known himself until a month ago.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been figuring it out. He’d known. But not known-known. Not for totally 100 percent certain known.

“Are you all right, Austin?” Uncle Boden asked. “You have the strangest look.”

He turned to his uncle. Tell him. Just tell him.

But he couldn’t. It was like his tongue had frozen up or died or something.

“Sherry?”

For a second, Austin thought his uncle was talking to the dog. But wasn’t her name Lucille? “Sorry?”

“I thought I would pour us a little sherry.”

“Oh. Sure,” Austin replied as his uncle stood up. But before he could leave the room…

“I’m gay.” God—there it was. He’d said it. Said it out loud.

My God. I said it out loud.

And just like that, he felt a huge surge in his chest. Felt something enormous and infinitely heavy lift off his shoulders. And this tingling. This wonderful tingling all over his body. It felt amazing.

“First time?” Uncle Boden asked. “Saying it?”

Austin gave a nod. “Pretty much.”

“Let me get that sherry.” He shuffled out of the room in well-worn brown slippers.

Austin ran his fingers through the dark-brown hair hanging on either side of his face, then chewed absently on the tip of his thumb. Gay. My uncle is gay.

Just like me.

A moment later, Uncle Boden was back with a tray holding two tulip-shaped wine glasses filled halfway with a honey-colored liquid, as well as a cut-glass decanter. He handed Austin one of the glasses.

“Thanks,” Austin said and took a swallow of what turned out to be an overly sweet drink, almost coughed.

“Sip! Sip, my boy. Let it lie across your tongue—absorb it.”

Embarrassed, Austin nodded and put his glass down on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Austin.”

“For what?” Austin wondered aloud.

“For what you’ve shared with me. Letting me be the first. Did it feel good?”

Austin smiled slowly and realized he was feeling positively giddy. “It did.”

Uncle Boden grinned and looked away. “My God, it takes me back. I couldn’t have been too much younger than you are now,” his uncle said. “You’re around eighteen?”

“Twenty,” Austin said. “I’ll be twenty-one in a couple months.”

“You look younger. I know a young man hates to hear those words, but later in life you’ll be glad about looking younger than you are.”

Austin shrugged.

“I was sixteen,” his uncle said, with a faraway look on his face. “I’d just given a boy my first blowjob—”

Austin’s eyes popped. Had his great-uncle Boden—an old man—just said “blowjob”?

“I didn’t know that’s what it was called. But I knew I wanted to do it. The first time I heard the word ‘cocksucker,’ I knew that’s what I was.” He laughed quietly to himself. “Oh, and Jimmy had such a nice cock.” The laugh turned into a cackle, and Lucille gave a single happy bark as if agreeing. Austin felt his mouth slip open and he forced it closed with a click.

“What?” Uncle Boden said. “Did you think your generation invented the blowjob too?”

“I guess not.”

“I should say not!” He slapped Austin’s knee. “You know, I have a picture of Jimmy I can show you.” He stood up. Lucille gave a happy bark and leapt to the floor. “No, girl,” he ordered. “You stay here with Austin.” He pointed to his nephew. “He’s our company.”

Lucille hopped back on the couch and climbed into Austin’s lap as her owner left the room, then stood on her hind legs and leaned against his chest. Austin looked into her joyous, adorable little face—muzzle all white with age—and couldn’t help but giggle when she offered him a few sweet little doggie kisses.

“Lucille! Stop,” Uncle Boden said, already returning to the room. “Some people don’t like that.”

“I don’t mind,” Austin said as she continued to lick his face.

Uncle Boden plopped down next to Austin, and Lucille immediately climbed down from Austin’s lap and into his.

“Here,” said Austin’s uncle, handing over a silver frame.

Austin looked down at a black-and-white photograph, yellowed with age. Two boys, teenagers, with short hair of an indeterminate color—brown? blond?—looked back at him, smiling, happy from some day long ago.

“Jimmy on the right.” Uncle Boden pointed. “Hot, wasn’t he?”

He was certainly cute, Austin admitted. But so was the other boy. “Who is the guy on the left?” he asked with an appreciative growl.

“Why, that’s me. I was hot too, wasn’t I?”

Mortified, Austin had to fight to keep his mouth from falling open once again.

“So Austin—this ‘friend’ of yours you’ve come to find. Is he—was he—your lover?”

Lover? Austin felt his stomach clench for a moment. “No,” he said sadly. “Not really.”

“Hmmmm….” Uncle Boden touched a finger to his lower lip, scratched his chin. “Not really? Is he gay?”

“I don’t know.” Austin moaned in frustration. “I’m hoping.”

“You’re in love,” his uncle sighed happily.

“I-I think I am,” Austin replied, felt his heart quicken.

“I was so in love with Jimmy.” Uncle Boden sighed again. Then: “Have you two at least been… how shall I say it? Have you two been physical? Have you fooled around?”

“Sorta… I-I….” Austin looked into his uncle’s face. The man was elderly, and yet in that moment, Austin realized the man was ageless as well. He saw the boy in the picture. Uncle Boden wasn’t just some old man. He was the boy in that picture, wasn’t he? Of course he was. The man hadn’t been born old. Austin clearly saw that there had been someone gay before him and… there would be someone gay after he was gone.

And suddenly everything seemed better. For the first time in his life, he felt as if there might be a place for him. And maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out right. Anything could happen. And he knew he could trust this man. That they could share intimate secrets. “I gave him a blowjob,” Austin said in a rush, before he could change his mind.

Uncle Boden’s cheeks pinked and the corners of his mouth flickered upward.

“What?” asked Austin. “Don’t you think men do that anymore?”

His uncle laughed. “I dare say they do!” he crowed. “At least I hope they do. Did you like it?”

Austin clutched a hand to his chest and felt his face heat up. “Oh my.”

“I know!” Uncle Boden laughed all the more. He glanced down at the coffee table and then reached out and picked up their glasses. He held one out to Austin and then said, “To a new chapter in your life.”

“To a new chapter,” Austin said happily, returning the toast.

THEY had finished their second glass of sherry, were debating a third, when Uncle Boden said, “You know, we’d better unload your vehicle. I only hope no one has snitched anything already. Let me just quick call Guy.”

“Guy?” asked Austin.

“A young man who lives on the third floor. He was gracious enough to move most of the stuff I had in the spare room down to the basement so you would have a place to sleep. Of course, we had to use Miss Hallie’s storage space, but she didn’t mind. She really wasn’t using it. She’s a thousand years old and has almost nothing. Imagine. My locker is filled to the ceiling with memories and kitsch.”

Uncle Boden left the room and was back in less than a minute. “He’s outside already. Can you believe it? Such a nice young man. I hope you two hit it off. He’s gay, you know. Peter’s aiming to get as many gay tenants as he can without seeming prejudiced.”

Guy? Hallie? Peter? Who were all these people? But Austin was sure he’d figure it all out eventually. As in any good play, it would all fall into place.

“Peter is my… boss,” Uncle Boden said. “My savior, really. He owns the building. Made me building manager—rent free—even though I can’t do much more than collect rent checks and call various handymen when a sink clogs up or a toilet stops working.”

“I’m quite handy when it comes to stuff like that,” Austin said. “I’ve got a knack for it.”

“So Wilda says. It’ll be wonderful to have your help.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Austin said. Before Austin moved to Kansas City, his uncle had insisted he not pay rent, and he agreed only on the condition he help with the building’s maintenance whenever he could.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ll meet Peter soon enough.”

By this time, they were leaving the building, and sure enough, there was someone pulling the tarp off the back of Austin’s S-10 pickup. Tall, dark-haired, and…

Good-looking.

“Guy, I want you to meet my great-nephew Austin. Austin, this is Guy.”

The young man approached them, smiling, hand rising from his side—and then he froze. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed; his full lips parted as if he were about to say something and then forgot what it was. After a beat, he visibly shook himself and held out his hand once more. “Nice to meet you,” he replied.

“Likewise,” Austin said and took it. The hand was nice, warm, and accompanied by what felt like a tiny shock. Guy was an inch or two taller than Austin, rugged, with close-cropped dark hair and a beard that was little more than a five o’clock shadow. He looked down with milk-chocolate-colored eyes, and damn, thought Austin, distracted by flecks of even darker brown. Guy was very good-looking indeed. They were still holding hands, and Austin quickly pulled his away with a twinge of guilt. I’m here an hour and I’m staring into some guy’s eyes. Todd. Todd is who I’m here for.

“Let’s get this done with,” Guy said, nodding toward Austin’s old red truck. “It’s getting chilly.”

At least the prediction of snow hadn’t come to pass, thought Austin—the reason he’d put the tarp over everything. It might have discouraged people from trying to snitch any of his things as well.

With Guy’s capable help, it was surprising how quickly they got Austin’s entire world out of the back of the truck and into his new room. It was a tight fit. He had moved into the basement when he started high school. His great-aunt Corvella had needed his boyhood bedroom when she got “the cancer,” as his Gram called it. When she died a few months later, he’d never moved back upstairs. If he helped with the laundry, his Gram didn’t come downstairs very often. All the tools were down there, but his grandfather hardly ever used them anymore, and so it was a rare day for him to come down either. The basement had become more than a bedroom; it had turned into a clubhouse of sorts for him and his lifelong friend Todd. He’d even given Todd a key to the cellar door.

Which, of course, had led to a complete and utter disaster in the end. One that wound up motivating Austin to leave his home. Correction. His home in Buckman. This little room in Uncle Bodie’s apartment was to be his home now. At least until he could afford his own place.

They brought in and set up the bed first, and then while Uncle Boden made it, they carried in the drawers of Austin’s desk and dresser. They were full due to the fact that Austin had opted to move them as is, instead of packing the contents into boxes and then having to refill the drawers again. The boxes he had packed went up after the furniture—once they had the lay of the land and knew where they could be stacked for the time being. Last of all was Austin’s weight set.

“Nice,” said Guy, shrugging off his coat. He wore a big baggy Royals jersey underneath. “This isn’t cheap shit.”

“My grandparents got them for me for Christmas a couple of years ago. I wanted a good set ’cuz I’ve always hated my body. I’m so crapping skinny.”

Guy shrugged. “It looks pretty nice to me,” he said with a lopsided grin and the arch of an eyebrow.

Austin felt his cheeks heat up. Guy was flirting. Guy. A real-life gay man.

Todd. Think of Todd. “Th-thanks,” he muttered. You’re not so bad yourself, he almost replied and bit his tongue.

“Another round of sherry?” Uncle Boden suggested when they were finished. “Guy? Join us?”

“No, Bodie, that’s just a tad too sweet for me. At least at this time of night. I’ll run up and get a beer, though. Austin?”

“Okay,” Austin said happily, not sure he wanted any more of the honey-like wine himself and happy Guy had included him in what felt like an adult ritual—even if he didn’t particularly like beer all that much. The buzz maybe. The taste he could definitely take or leave.

“I’ll be back in a flash,” Guy said. “You want one, Bodie?”

“No, that’s okay. The sweet stuff for me. Sweets for the sweet,” he said with a laugh.

“Bodie?” Austin enquired.

“That’s what my friends call me,” his uncle explained. “Them that’s left. Boden is just so butch. I asked Guy to call me Bodie. Makes me feel real. Young and queer again. I’d like you to do the same.”

“Uncle Bodie,” Austin said, trying the new name on for size.

“Just Bodie. You can drop the Uncle.”

Just Bodie? Austin wondered. No. He couldn’t. “We’ll compromise, I’ll say ‘Bodie’ instead of ‘Boden,’ even though I’ve always thought you had a cool name. But I gotta say ‘Uncle.’”

“Fine. Fine,” his uncle Bodie yielded. “So what do you think of Guy?”

“He seems nice.” Austin swallowed a lump.

“You know, Guy is in the theater? Director. Or is it playwright? Wait, it’s both, I think.”

“Really?” Austin asked, surprised. He loved the theater. It was a part of why he’d moved to a bigger city. Since he’d graduated, he’d only gotten to do a little community theater, and Buckman Community Theater was less than stellar.

Uncle Boden… Bodie… was nodding. “I saw one of his shows just last week. A crazy version of that movie with Dolly Parton.”

“Best Little Whorehouse in Texas?” Austin asked. He loved musicals. God. How did I not know I was gay? What could be more gay than loving musicals?

“No-no, not that one. The one with the Flying Nun. What’s her name? ‘You like me, you really, really like me!’”

“Sally Field?” Austin offered.

“Sally Field! That’s it! And that stud muffin Tom Skerritt.”

Austin started laughing—stud muffin?—just as there was a knock at the front door, and Lucille took off like a miniature rocket, barking all the way.

“Lucille!” shouted Uncle Bodie. “Control. A lady needs to show control. I’m sure it’s just your Uncle Guy.”

Austin wiped his eyes, and a moment later, Guy was back—damn, he’s good-looking—with two beers, bottles already open. He handed one to Austin.

“Cheers,” declared Uncle Bodie, holding his fresh glass of sherry high.

“Cheers,” said Guy.

“Cheers,” Austin repeated and took a sip, expecting one step above nasty and getting a surprise instead. “Hey,” he exclaimed. “That’s nice.”

Guy nodded, grinning. “I love Boulevard. You haven’t had it before?”

Austin shook his head. “I don’t know much about beer. If they carried this in Buckman, I didn’t realize it or know what it was. The kids I know drink Milwaukee’s Worst and Pabst.”

Guy grimaced and Austin laughed—and took a bigger swallow. It glided down his throat, all malt and hops. “It tastes like liquid marijuana,” he said with a snicker.

“We’re drinking Double-Wide I.P.A.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Austin admitted.

“Just know it means tons of hops,” Guy explained.

“So I was telling Austin about your Dolly Parton play,” Bodie interrupted.

“‘Dolly Parton Play.’” Guy grinned. “Sounds like a good name for a show, actually. Steel Magnolias. You’re talking about Steel Magnolias.”

“I love that movie,” Austin said.

“Well, this is the original play, and all the scenes take place in Truvy’s beauty shop, and there are no men.”

“No Tom Skerritt.” Uncle Bodie pouted.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Did you know the playwright was gay?” Guy asked.

“No, me either.”

“His sister died and he wasn’t coping—they were really close—and someone said, ‘You’re a writer, write about it,’ and thus we have Steel Magnolias.”

“Tell him what you’ve done with it,” Uncle Bodie said, all enthusiastic.

“Well, I didn’t come up with the idea,” Guy said. “But I cast male actors in half the roles.”

Austin sat up. “Men?”

“In drag,” Uncle Bodie declared.

“I figured since it was written by a gay man, and since I didn’t want to rewrite it with gay characters, and since drag is such a part of our heritage—our ancestry—it would be perfect. It’s been done. But I hope I did it better. This is the last weekend. Why don’t you come Sunday? I’ll make sure you get a seat.”

“Really?” Austin said. How amazing was that? He loved plays, and here he was, no more than an hour in town, and he was going to a play. “This is the most unbelievable day I can remember in forever,” he said, grinning foolishly. “First I get here and find out my uncle is gay—”

“Me too,” Guy said.

And wasn’t that incredible? If his uncle hadn’t told him, had he met Guy on the street, he would never have guessed it. The man was so… normal.

But why shouldn’t he be? Austin asked himself. Hadn’t he read that one in ten men were gay? Hadn’t that been his secret mantra? So what could be more normal than Guy being gay?

“Me three,” he admitted, and to his surprise, realized he had said it for the second time in one day. No. Only kind of said it.

“I’m gay,” he amended, making it official.

“Your uncle thought you were,” Guy said. “And I was hoping.”

“You were?” Austin asked, his voice cracking.

Guy’s milk-chocolate eyes seemed to bore into him.

“Now Guy,” Uncle Boden said. “Stop being naughty. I told you. Austin is on a mission to find his friend, and as it turns out, I was right. Austin looks for his lover.”

“Damn,” said Guy. “Isn’t that always the way? They’re either straight or taken.”

Austin gulped. “I’m not taken exactly.” He felt a rush of nerves sweep over him. “I mean—I’m hoping. Sorry. But… but….”

“He’s in love, Guy. We must not stand in the way of true love.”

Guy looked away—“Of course not.”—thank God. Oh, but then those eyes were back. “So how about this Sunday? Will you come and see the play? It should be fun. There’s going to be a bunch of people showing up dressed as their favorite character from the show.”

“I-I’d love to, but I don’t have a costume.”

“You’re exempt. Tell me you’ll be there.”

Now those eyes were pleading, and Austin found he had no resistance. “Sure.”

“Great! Bodie tells me you’re an actor.”

Austin found himself blushing once again. Could you honestly call community theater and high school in Buckman, Missouri, acting? “Well. Maybe not an actor, exactly.”

“Okay,” said Guy. “You’re ‘not exactly’ taken, and you’re ‘not exactly’ an actor.”

“He is an actor,” declared Uncle Bodie. “He was in almost all of his high school plays, and he starred in his senior musical Little Shop of Horrors, and the town musical Big River.”

“I love that show. ‘I have lived in the darkness for so long, I am waitin’ for the light to shine…,’” Guy sang.

Austin chimed in with the next line—all about places beyond the horizon, and beyond dreams—then found himself blushing all the more.

“You’ve got a great voice,” Guy said.

“You think so?” Austin asked and felt his ears burning. “I don’t know.”

“We do,” said Uncle Bodie.

“Thanks,” Austin replied, a foolish grin on his face.

Had there ever been a better day?

DESPITE the fact he had been warned, Austin couldn’t help but be surprised at the sight. A parade of drag queens. Well, no—not drag queens, exactly. But men in dresses and crazy wigs and outfits, marching right down the sidewalk along Main Street as if such antics were as normal as could be. Hell, maybe it was in Kansas City, but for a guy born and raised in the tiny town of Buckman, it was anything but an everyday sight.

As he stood there outside the Pegasus Theatre, he watched as the men got closer, walking as confidently as if they dressed up like characters from Steel Magnolias all the time. Assholes in passing cars honked but inspired nothing but happy Queen-of-England waves from the cross-dressers. At first Austin found the whole thing a bit of a shock, but the closer they got—as he saw the smiles on their faces, the way they held their heads high, as they laughed and poked at each other with umbrellas and, God, was that a shotgun?—he found himself getting caught up in the spirit of it all. After all, these men were coming to see the play Steel Magnolias—a production where half the cast were men—so why the hell not?

Austin felt his heart jump. Wasn’t this why he’d come to Kansas City? For this kind of magic? That and to find Todd, of course. But in the meantime, why not catch the enchantment? That’s what Uncle Bodie had told him to do.

Austin stepped back so as not to be mowed down by the leader of the Magnolia parade, a largish man with a huge blonde-white wig and breasts the size of volleyballs. As a matter of fact, Austin could see that was exactly what they were. Through the thin white blouse, he could just make out that one was orange and the other, green. Austin couldn’t help but laugh. The man came to a stop and put a hand, which was clutching a hair blower like a handgun, against his hip.

“What are you laughing at?” said the faux-Dolly Parton as Truvy in a mock-Southern accent.

“Nothing,” Austin said, taking a backward step. He swallowed hard and then smiled. “I think you look great.”

The Truvy smiled. “Well then! Aren’t you the one?” He patted his wig and straightened his boobs. “It takes some effort to look like this!”

“Your outfit is perfect.” Austin smiled happily. “You look just like Dolly. It must have taken you forever to get your outfit together.”

Truvy shook his ample hips. “The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize,” he quoted.

Austin laughed in delight. “You’re brave. I wouldn’t have the guts. Not in a month of Sundays.”

Truvy’s eyebrow shot up. “I don’t know. I bet you’d make a great Miss Merry Christmas.”

“Move!” shouted a man behind Truvy, this one wearing a horrible brown wig, an ancient fur coat, and holding a stuffed toy St. Bernard under his arm. Obviously, he was supposed to be Ouiser Boudreaux, but truth to tell, as thick as his eyebrows were, they didn’t beat Shirley MacLaine’s.

“Calm down, girlfriend,” said Truvy. “I was just admiring this ‘big hangin’ man,’ here.”

Austin laughed uncomfortably. The last thing he’d ever considered himself to be was a “big hangin’ man,” in any sense of the description.

Truvy grabbed Austin by the elbow with a huge hand and hauled him through the front doors of the Pegasus. “You’re coming to see the show, right?” he asked.

Austin sighed. “Well, that was the plan. There was supposed to be a ticket for me at will-call, but they didn’t have it.”

“Well, hell, honey, let’s buy you one. The tickets aren’t that expensive.”

“The show’s sold out,” Austin explained.

“Oh no!” Truvy came to a sudden stop, and the man with the toy shotgun crashed into them.

“Hey!” cried the man, and that was when Austin saw the man wasn’t a man at all, but a woman dressed as Tom Skerritt—complete with a fisherman’s hat and splatters of fake bird poop all over an ugly sweater-vest. At least, Austin hoped it was fake poop.

Truvy spun around again. “Watch where the hell you’re going, Tiff!”

“Well, don’t stop like that.” Tiff/Tom Skerritt tucked a bit of blue hair under her hat.

Truvy pulled Austin out of the way and let the theatergoers pass by.

“You’re gonna miss getting a good seat,” Austin remarked, nodding in the direction of the passing parade.

“They’ll save me a good seat if they know what’s good for them. What’ll suck is if you miss it entirely.”

It had been a surprise to Austin. Guy had said he’d leave a ticket for him. Where was it? Guy hadn’t seemed like the type to promise something and not come through. He couldn’t help but be disappointed. The play would have been an awesome—if not weird—way to begin his first week in Kansas City. Austin shrugged. “I’m still hoping,” he replied. “The guy at the ticket booth said sometimes there are a few seats left for no-shows and I could still buy a ticket. If it’s okay with the guy who organized all this.”

“Guy? Guy! Guy is who organized this.” Truvy cocked his head and then scanned the room, pointed, and there was Guy, standing at the far end of the lobby, wearing a thick purple sweater that looked to be at least two sizes too big. “There he is, sugar. Come on,” he said, pulling Austin in that direction. “Let’s see what the hell happened.”

“I-I…. Wait.” Austin found he was unexpectedly nervous. He didn’t want to be a pest. Maybe Guy had simply forgotten. He’d probably had other things on his mind. It was the last performance of his play, after all. Maybe there hadn’t been any seats left. Maybe he’d been too embarrassed to call. Maybe he’d called and Austin had already left. Maybe….

“Guy, this young’un here….” Truvy paused. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Austin,” he replied, biting his lip.

“Guy, Austin here says you promised him a seat for the show.”

“Well, I didn’t say he promised,” Austin said.

Guy looked up from the clipboard he’d been studying. “I’m sorry. What did you say…?” And then those eyes—the color of milk chocolate—flew wide. “Oh shit! Austin. Dammit.” He slapped his palm against his forehead. “Wait. Don’t move.” He dashed over to the will-call window and began to talk to the man standing there. A second later, he returned. He glanced out the window, then leaned out the door and looked down the sidewalk. Turning back, he said, “I think that’s it. Grady, are there any people from brunch still coming?”

Truvy looked around at the crowd. “I don’t think so. Except for Leonard, who needs a ride because of his broken leg. Hey, Tiff!”

The woman-Skerritt turned around.

“This is everybody except for Leonard and his ride?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

Truvy turned back around. “There wasn’t quite the turnout for brunch we thought there’d be.”

Guy shrugged. “Then you’re in, Austin.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” Austin said.

“No. I owe you an apology,” Guy said. “I invite you and then totally mess up. I was sure I called it in, but I have been all nerves. Forgive me?”

Austin smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. “No problem.”

“I hope you like the show.” Guy smiled back. “Go pick a seat—they’re opening the doors right now.”

Austin grinned happily. What luck. “This is totally awesome. Want me to save you a place?”

“Nope,” Guy said. “I’m the director. Speaking of which, I better get backstage.”

“Break a leg,” Austin said as Guy was turning to leave.

Guy stopped¸ gave him a sweet smile, and winked at him.

Damn, those eyes.

“Thanks, Austin. Enjoy.” With that, Guy was gone.

AFTERWARD, Austin found he didn’t want to leave. He felt silly, but he found himself leaning against his truck instead of getting in and driving home. Everything had ended too soon. He wanted it to go on.

The play had been fun. At first, the fact three of the actors were men was a little… well, bizarre. But to his surprise, within ten minutes Austin had all but forgotten that fact. He was pulled into the world the playwright and everyone involved with the production had created. That was Truvy onstage and not an actor, male or female. And sure enough, that was Ouiser. And there was M’Lynn. Soon he was laughing and crying as the story unfolded, the characters sharing their journey, their growth, and their heartbreaks. And then there was the intimacy of the stage. It thrust out partially into the audience, with the seats wrapped around it like a parenthesis. With luck, he’d gotten a front row seat, and he felt like he was practically in Truvy’s beauty shop.

Austin loved the play. It was everything theater was supposed to be. It was magic.

When the double doors on the side of the building opened and some of the cast members spilled out—chatting, laughing, smoking—Austin felt his heart race. Actors. They were real actors. Sure, it was a small theater. But it was a real theater. In fact, the Pegasus was popular enough that it had two stages: one called simply “Main Stage,” and the second “The Wagner Stage.” The play hadn’t been some small-town production of Arsenic and Old Lace with actors constantly forgetting their lines, or The Sound of Music where the star was the daughter of the mayor. The actors had been amazing. How else had three members of the cast, men, made Austin forget—for the length of the play—they were, in fact, men, playing what were generally women’s roles?

When one of them looked his way, Austin waved. To his surprise, the actor smiled and waved him over. Heart in his throat, he found himself pulled to them like steel to a magnet. It was only when he got there that he saw what they were eating. “Oh my God,” he said, fighting a squeal. “Bleeding armadill’er cake!”

“Want some?” asked the young actress he recognized as having played Shelby.

For some reason, the request made his chest pound so hard he was sure she could hear it. It’s just cake. Why are you acting like such a little kid?

“I’d love some,” he said, grinning.

She motioned for him to follow her backstage. “I noticed you in the audience,” she said, heading for a table surrounded by cast members and what must have been crew.

“You did?” he asked.

She nodded. “You’re the kind of audience member we love. You had me crying, watching you cry. Thanks. You helped my performance.”

Austin laughed in delight. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” she said and shepherded him to the table full of food, and yes, right there in the middle of the table, a red velvet cake in the shape of an armadillo, covered in gray icing! She leaned in, cut off a leg, placed it on a plate, and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Want a drink?” she asked. “I hear the punch is deadly.”

“It better not be” came a familiar voice.

They turned to find Guy standing over them. “We still have a set to tear down today. I knew I should have made people wait to party, but all those drag queens insisted.”

“Oh, it won’t be all that bad,” said “Shelby.”

“You want some help?” Austin asked.

“You don’t have to do that,” Guy answered.

“No, really. I don’t mind. It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

“I guess that’s true,” Guy said with a grin. “If you really don’t mind, we’d love the help.”

“It’s the least I can do, what with the free ticket and all.”

“I told you, Austin. It was no bother at all. I wanted you here.”

Austin felt his heart jump. Gosh, the man is sweet.

“And besides,” Guy said. “The seats have all been paid for. I just organized this. Peter bought the tickets, and he wouldn’t want there to be an empty seat.”

“Peter?”

“Peter Wagner. He’s one of the patrons for the Pegasus, and a more stately homo you’ll never ever meet. He wanted to make sure a bunch of queens got to see the final performance.”

Peter Wagner. As in “The Wagner Stage”? I wonder if that’s the same Peter Uncle Bodie was talking about?

“You stick around the Pegasus long enough and you’re sure to meet him. They named the second stage after him. The least we could do with all the money he’s given to us. You know, I think he’s a friend of your uncle. Peter owns our building.”

Bingo, thought Austin. He had to be the same Peter Uncle Bodie had been talking about. Are they lovers? he wondered.

So those who were willing, after a drink or two, hit the stage and began to strike the set. It was the part of the whole experience that always made Austin feel sad. The end.

Stage sets were the foundation intrinsic to helping him and his fellow actors bring forth their characters. It seemed almost a crime to tear them down. But it had to be done or the cycle could not continue. The old had to make way for the new. Arabian tents or rundown apartments made way for cornfields or a mad scientist’s laboratory. Yellow brick roads or the Mississippi River bank for dark forests, ships’ decks, and castle keeps. All to help actors bring to life whole new casts of characters.

Bittersweet was what it was.

Luckily, in this case, he had no emotional ties to Truvy’s beauty shop, except for what one performance had given him, powerful as it had been. For once, he could see the set as it was, simple sheets of plywood and two-by-fours, garage sale furniture, and fixtures that didn’t really work.

He shared these thoughts as he worked with hammer and crowbar by Guy’s side.

“I know what you mean,” said Guy. “But the worst part for me is the family lost.”

“Lost?” asked Austin. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Something very powerful happens with a good play where the actors really connect with their characters and each other and the script. I’ve seen romances bloom, affairs begin, marriages torn apart. I was involved with a production of Rocky Horror where the straight man who was playing Dr. Frank-N-Furter had a wild, kinky fling with the actor who played Rocky. They’d be banging away backstage or in the dressing room—and this ‘straight’ guy got so lost in it all that he not only had a homosexual affair, but he didn’t realize that everybody knew what was going on.” Guy laughed. “How could we not know? You could smell it in the air.”

“Damn,” muttered Austin.

“I mean, acting can be all so Mr. and Mrs. Smith. How could Brad Pitt not have cheated on Jennifer with Angelina Jolie, making a movie like that?”

Austin didn’t know how to answer.

“So all of this powerful family happens, and then? Bam! It’s over, and the family that a good script and a good play forged is torn apart, and the actors are scattered to the seven winds as they take new parts and get involved in new shows. I hate cast parties.” He waved his hammer over his shoulder in the general direction of the activities in the other room, where some people still carried on. “Too many tears.”

“I-I never thought about it,” said Austin. “Buckman is a pretty small town. My graduating class was thirty-six people. You’re pretty much in all the same plays together. Even in community theater, it’s all the same people. How do you do it?”

“I direct.” Guy gave him a weak smile and attacked the next section of the set. “It lets me stand back a little bit, anyway. It’s like being a teacher at recess. The kids—the actors—they get to play. I watch over them. If everything goes according to plan, they get lots of credit. Of course, if anything goes wrong, it’s all my fault. But at least I stop falling in love with my costars.” He laughed uncomfortably.

“But what I really love is writing. I get to create the world the actors step into. I give them their words instead of memorizing someone else’s reality. I create the identity the actors take on.”

“You sound