One Marriage and Three Weddings
by Jenna Hilary Sinclair
Buy your copy from Dreamspinner Press
102 pages, eBook novella, $4.99
Published June 25, 2009
STORY DESCRIPTION:
Although Harry Sanderson has lived on a ranch in northern New Mexico with Mike Pruitt for many years, he still doesn’t know how to describe their
relationship—even to himself. Are they live-in lovers? Partners? Boyfriends? There isn’t a word to adequately describe their mutual devotion and his quiet, deeply held feelings for Mike. Mike is no help. He thinks that what they share is a marriage, but Harry knows better. Weddings aren’t for the likes of men like them… until a gay bar, missing lube, and a drag queen show him that he might be wrong.
EXCERPT:
Although Harry Sanderson has lived on a ranch in northern New Mexico with Mike Pruitt for many years, he still doesn’t know how to describe their
relationship—even to himself. Are they live-in lovers? Partners? Boyfriends? There isn’t a word to adequately describe their mutual devotion and his quiet, deeply held feelings for Mike. Mike is no help. He thinks that what they share is a marriage, but Harry knows better. Weddings aren’t for the likes of men like them… until a gay bar, missing lube, and a drag queen show him that he might be wrong.
EXCERPT:
In this early scene, Mike and Harry have just walked into a bar they unexpectedly have found in the middle of the industrial area of Amarillo.
“Howdy and welcome to JT’s.” A waiter who filled out his black polo shirt like he was aiming to be the next Mr. Universe stood next to their table. “What can I get you?”
Mike ordered Heineken, and Harry wanted his usual Corona—“with a lime,” he reminded, ‘cause sometimes it didn’t come with. The waiter nodded and tucked the pencil behind his ear with a certain fancy move that caught Harry’s eye. Nah…. He glanced away uneasily and saw a couple more guys come through the front door with big grins, like they were real happy to arrive. They were greeted with shouts from across the room; seemed like at JT’s folks knew one another. Knew one another pretty good from the way they were hugging hello.
“We’re getting the crowd early tonight,” Chad commented, because that’s what his nametag said.
Across the table, Mike was sitting up real straight all of a sudden, and he was chewing on the inside of his mouth. He let go, looked up at Chad, and asked, “You get a good Saturday night crowd?”
“Darling, you wouldn’t believe. There won’t be space to move in another hour.”
Harry was pretty sure he must’ve heard that wrong, what with all the noise, the new guys being talked to, and the music and all. That wasn’t a word he heard much. He didn’t even call Mike darling, and he sure as hell hadn’t ever called Charlene anything like that, hoped his wife was resting in peace. Darling?
Harry wanted to look at Chad some more, to squint up at him, ‘cause there was something not right here. But he didn’t. He didn’t want anybody staring at him, so he sure wasn’t going to call attention to himself by getting into anybody’s face.
Chad didn’t seem to be in that big a hurry to leave. What, was he aiming for a bigger tip by being friendly? He shifted his weight to his right hip and asked them, “Is this your first time here?”
Mike was the one who answered. Harry couldn’t talk when he was thinking so hard. This really did look like an ordinary bar to him, except for…. And that hugging. “Uh, yeah,” Mike said, “it is.”
“How’d you get word?”
Mike shrugged. “We just drove by.”
“Sure, whatever you say. I’ll get your beers.”
Chad took himself off and Harry watched him take his tight-assed leave, but he quick caught himself and returned his gaze to the table. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute and his mouth was dry. He risked a quick look up and around, gulped, and went back to studying his fingers that were gripping the edge of the table. It couldn’t be. There wasn’t a woman in sight.
Mike leaned in toward him across the table. “Harry, I think—”
“Hold off there,” Harry said roughly. He needed to get away fast, to where he could think clear. He stood up, pushing his chair back so it scraped against the wood floor. “I gotta go take a piss.”
“Wait a minute, you need to know—”
“Gotta go, Mike.”
He stalked across the bar, skirting the dance floor as if stepping on it would break his back, but then he gratefully noted the familiar shapes of two pool tables on the other side. He didn’t let himself look at the bodies of the men playing, didn’t let himself look at anyone at all. The music had changed to some guy singing “Love’s Got a Hold on You.”
There wasn’t another soul in the men’s room when Harry stumbled inside. He went straight to a sink, bent over, and threw water in his face.
Jesus! They were in a goddamn gay bar!
Mike ordered Heineken, and Harry wanted his usual Corona—“with a lime,” he reminded, ‘cause sometimes it didn’t come with. The waiter nodded and tucked the pencil behind his ear with a certain fancy move that caught Harry’s eye. Nah…. He glanced away uneasily and saw a couple more guys come through the front door with big grins, like they were real happy to arrive. They were greeted with shouts from across the room; seemed like at JT’s folks knew one another. Knew one another pretty good from the way they were hugging hello.
“We’re getting the crowd early tonight,” Chad commented, because that’s what his nametag said.
Across the table, Mike was sitting up real straight all of a sudden, and he was chewing on the inside of his mouth. He let go, looked up at Chad, and asked, “You get a good Saturday night crowd?”
“Darling, you wouldn’t believe. There won’t be space to move in another hour.”
Harry was pretty sure he must’ve heard that wrong, what with all the noise, the new guys being talked to, and the music and all. That wasn’t a word he heard much. He didn’t even call Mike darling, and he sure as hell hadn’t ever called Charlene anything like that, hoped his wife was resting in peace. Darling?
Harry wanted to look at Chad some more, to squint up at him, ‘cause there was something not right here. But he didn’t. He didn’t want anybody staring at him, so he sure wasn’t going to call attention to himself by getting into anybody’s face.
Chad didn’t seem to be in that big a hurry to leave. What, was he aiming for a bigger tip by being friendly? He shifted his weight to his right hip and asked them, “Is this your first time here?”
Mike was the one who answered. Harry couldn’t talk when he was thinking so hard. This really did look like an ordinary bar to him, except for…. And that hugging. “Uh, yeah,” Mike said, “it is.”
“How’d you get word?”
Mike shrugged. “We just drove by.”
“Sure, whatever you say. I’ll get your beers.”
Chad took himself off and Harry watched him take his tight-assed leave, but he quick caught himself and returned his gaze to the table. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute and his mouth was dry. He risked a quick look up and around, gulped, and went back to studying his fingers that were gripping the edge of the table. It couldn’t be. There wasn’t a woman in sight.
Mike leaned in toward him across the table. “Harry, I think—”
“Hold off there,” Harry said roughly. He needed to get away fast, to where he could think clear. He stood up, pushing his chair back so it scraped against the wood floor. “I gotta go take a piss.”
“Wait a minute, you need to know—”
“Gotta go, Mike.”
He stalked across the bar, skirting the dance floor as if stepping on it would break his back, but then he gratefully noted the familiar shapes of two pool tables on the other side. He didn’t let himself look at the bodies of the men playing, didn’t let himself look at anyone at all. The music had changed to some guy singing “Love’s Got a Hold on You.”
There wasn’t another soul in the men’s room when Harry stumbled inside. He went straight to a sink, bent over, and threw water in his face.
Jesus! They were in a goddamn gay bar!
Buy your copy of this eBook novella today!
4.25 Stars Review by Lynn at Jessewave
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