Chapter 1

“I told you how I feel about you people walking across my driveway.”

“Yes, Mrs. Beasley. I’m so sorry. I’ll go around.”

The last thing Marshall Galloway wanted to do was walk around Mrs. Beasley’s long-ass driveway. He had spent most of the afternoon mowing and weed-eating her lawn for Grass Master Landscapers and he was tired. His co-worker Kip was supposed to be planting and mulching the flowerbeds, but he had kept fairly busy staying out of Mrs. Beasley’s line of vision and lounging in the shade whenever possible.

Marshall slung his heavy industrial weed-eater over his shoulder and walked several hundred feet to the road, across the front of the driveway, and back up to where Kip was sitting under a crepe myrtle. He sat the weed-eater down with a thump and plucked a showy bright purple bloom from the tree.

“Fuck you, Kip,” said Marshall. He held the flower up to his nose. “And fuck this crepe myrtle.”

“Sorry, man,” said Kip who didn’t seem to be sorry at all. “I was up all night. I just don’t feel like doing shit today. Especially for that bitch Mrs. Beasley.”

“Hey, it’s her house. If she doesn’t want us to do certain shit, it’s her right to tell us not to.”

“It’s just how she says it. She’s a jerk and you know it. And what did that innocent crepe myrtle ever do to you?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s beautiful, but it doesn’t smell very good. I mean, it’s a tease.”

Kip groaned and collapsed back into the mulch. “Talk about a freakin’ tease, man. That girl I told you about? Kelly?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, me and Kelly went out last night. I took her to dinner, we went out drinking and dancing. She was all up on me on the dance floor. She got me all worked up and I’d be damned if she didn’t leave with one of her stupid-ass friends.”

“She’s not a hooker, dude,” said Marshall. “She doesn’t have to put out just because you bought her some chicken strips.”

“No, but shit. My dick hasn’t gone down since.” Kip grabbed his crotch and Marshall could see the other man’s erection straining inside his pants leg.

Marshall blushed and turned his head. “Jesus, man. What’s wrong with you?”

Kip laughed. “Look at your face! I thought you were red before. You’re, like, purple.”

“Shut up,” said Marshall. The delicate Irish complexion of Marshall’s face was not only sensitive to the elements and to physical exertion, but it also broadcast his emotions loud and clear

“You’re such a prude, man.”

“I’m not a prude,” said Marshall. “I just don’t like it when you perv out on me like that.”

Kip scooted over so that Marshall had room to sit beside him. “Having boners and wanting to fuck hot chicks is not being pervy. It’s called being a red-blooded American male.” Marshall just shrugged his shoulders. “We need to get you out and get you laid, my boy.”

“Naw,” said Marshall. “I’m good. How can you think about sex after working in this damned heat all day? Oh wait, you didn’t work. You sat on your ass.”

“Hey,” said Kip. “The heat zaps my energy too, but the call of the wild, man. The urge to merge. Don’t you feel it, like, coursing through your veins.”

“Not really, no.”

“Then we definitely need to get you laid. You ain’t livin’ right. You a virgin, Marsh?”

Marshall frowned. “No. Of course not. I’ve had a couple of girlfriends. Sex is okay, but it’s just not my thing, really.”

“That’s cool. More pussy for me, then. Let’s knock off for the day. You sure you don’t want to go out?”

“Naw,” said Marshall. “I’m good. Just drop me off at my house if you don’t mind.”

The two men walked to the road and loaded the company work truck. After a short trip across town Kip dropped Marshall off in front of his tiny one-bedroom house before squealing his tires and tearing off down the street. Marshall shook his head, checked his mailbox, and headed inside. He briefly considered taking a shower, but decided instead on the cool comfort of a bath. He could barely afford to make the mortgage payments. A luxury like air conditioning was out, which made a nice bath one of the few ways left to him to cool down. While he waited for the tub to fill, he contemplated his need for a shave, but decided his face and neck had gotten too much sun. He didn’t want to add insult to injury by dragging a razor, whose blade should have been changed two weeks ago, through his thick stubble.