The Christmas Pundit (Laurel Holidays #2) - V.L. Locey Page 0,14
Someday I needed to get to the mall and buy some new suits, but since I spend most of my day in trousers, a belt, a dress shirt sans tie with the sleeves rolled up, and scuffed loafers, an expensive suit seemed like a frivolity. The people of this town saw me as one of them, a hardworking, push up your sleeves and dive-in kind of a guy.
“Well, yes, but this is a lot of money we’re talking about,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “Just think about it. I have to get back to the flock and wish them God’s blessing as they leave. Save me a seat at Missy May’s!”
“Will do.” I clapped him on the shoulder.
He hustled off, white under vestments and purple chasuble rippling around his legs. Bake sales. Well, that was one way to add to the Christmas Carnival fund, but we’d have to sell a cubic shit ton of brownies to afford sleighs and horses and advertising costs. Mind whipping frantically like a dervish the whole way to Missy May’s Diner on State Route 6, I barely heard the conversation that my mother and father were having. It was only when they mentioned something Gert Babcock had said during services about the paper that my attention snapped back to the other people in my car.
“…a dollar an hour raise, and that they were going to install high-speed internet in the Gazette offices,” Mom was relaying to Dad, who was sitting in the back. “I wish Yellow Hill Cable would give us high-speed internet.”
“They offer it but it costs twice as much, and you said we didn’t need faster internet and wanted to put the extra money we’d pay for zippy internet into a vacation fund,” Dad countered.
“Wait, hold up. Gideon is giving the people who work at the paper a raise, did I hear that correctly? And he’s paying for better internet?”
“That’s what Gert says. She’s the office manager there, she should know. Why?” Mom asked as she lowered the visor to touch up her lipstick.
“Why are you putting on lipstick before you eat?” Dad asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to eat then touch up the lipstick?”
“I don’t want people to see me walking in without fresh lipstick.”
“Women,” Dad lightly coughed pulling a quick dark look from my mother. “Smart move being gay, Evan. You never had to wait around for Myron to put on makeup.”
As soon as he’d said it my mother gasped. “Honestly, Daniel! Why did you mention Myron?”
“It just slipped out, Michele, I swear. Sorry, Son.” He reached up to pat my shoulder.
“Really, it’s fine. Myron and I parted amiably. And it was three years ago, so I’m pretty much over him.” I smiled at my father in the rearview mirror. He looked pained. “Seriously, you two can mention my ex-boyfriend. He’s off being happy with someone else.”
“And you’re here in this tiny town being the only gay man in a thousand miles. It’s not healthy, Evan. Why don’t you go up to Corning? Visit a gay bar? Find a young man and hook up.”
“Mom, please…”
“I read in the paper that there’s a thing you can buy to stimulate your prostate.”
“Dad, please.”
“No, listen. It’s a prostate tickler or something like that. Michele, what was it called?”
“You’re thinking of a French tickler which is a condom with bumps. Remember that time we went to Niagara Falls for our anniversary and you bought a box to try out?”
“Mom, please.”
“Oh, yes, that was a fun trip! We thought you had a baby brother or sister coming after that trip, so I guess the ticklers didn’t work so well. I sure wasn’t tickled when your mother was late, but then her monthly came.”
“Dad, dear God, just stop. If I promise to find someone to date, will you two please stop talking about your past sexual hijinks?”
“For a gay man, you’re very uptight about sex,” Mom commented then pursed her lips to apply more lipstick.
“No, I’m not uptight about sex. I’m fine about sex. I’m not really thrilled to hear my parents discussing their sex lives. What other kinds of kinky things have you two bought to try out?” Where the hell was the diner? It had to be close. Please let it be close…
“Wouldn’t you like to know!?” Dad hooted. Mom giggled like a teenager. I nearly ran over the curb in my haste to whip into Missy May’s parking lot.
I parked and exited my car in record time. Mom and Dad were whispering