Chapter 2

London never felt at ease in other homes, afraid he’d do or say something wrong, but he easily relaxed, feeling the comfort oozing from the walls, and Angela with her soft, loving voice.

She feathered a picture of her son. “He broke so many hearts.”

“I can see why.” London stared at the tanned man, about his age with bedroom eyes, a confident smile, and puffy lips made for kissing. Or sucking cock. He smiled to himself. He pointed to the bookcase. “You’re a fan of A.C. Malone? I have every book.”

A playful grin grew on her face. “Usually horny women or gay men read thatgenre.”

London chuckled. “I’m out.”

The Cheshire cat would be jealous of her deepening smile. “I wrote them.” There was pride in her voice.

London’s mouth fell open, but after a moment, he closed it.

“My name is Angela Conchetti and I write under A.C. Malone. Malone is my mother’s maiden name.”

London crowed, “I just got the latest one, In the Hand of Fate.”

“It’s In the Fist of Fate,dearYou know what a fist is for when it’s not punching?” She winked. His face heated.

* * * *

Peddling home, the pictures of handsome Joel filled London’s thoughts. He took a hot shower, a variety of sex scenes from Angela’s books flashing through his mind.

The next day after work, London changed into dress slacks and a pink shirt and drove to Angela’s for, as she insisted, his thank youdinner. She was on the front porch, reading to the beast. She set her book down, sporting a welcoming smile. Kuma barked, wagging his tail.

Angela chuckled. “Kuma, say hello.”

Kuma trotted forward, plopping both paws on London’s shoulders, looking down at him. He moaned as though trying to talk.

Laughing, London asked, “What breed is he?”

“Long-haired German Shepherd, and Kuma is Japanese for bear. Look up Shilo Shepherdsometime” Angela snapped her fingers, and Kuma returned to her. “Let’s go inside.”

The scent of baking bread welcomed him.

“Do you know how to make a salad?”

“Yup, love to cook.”

“Good. Will you get the salad stuff from the fridge?” She handed him a pink frilly apron. “We’re having a vegetarian casserole, stir-fried veggies with an Asian sauce, homemade whole grain bread, and a berry cobbler. Hope you don’t mind helping. I love teamwork. Taught my son to cook.” Her pat on his back, so simple, seemed so friendly and loving, a far cry from the way he was raised in a mostly sterile household.

They got to work while she played a CD of Frank Sinatra, her singing along in an obviously experienced voice.

Casually, she asked, “Did you come out on purpose or were you outed?”

“I’d rehearsed, and during an argument with my parents, who were always unhappy with my average grades and other things, I said ‘Here’s something else to hate me for. I’m gay.’” He stopped working on the salad, staring at the wall. In a hollow voice, he said, “They said they didn’t hate me. What they didn’t say hurt worse. After that, it was easy to tell others.”

Angela pulled him into a mother’s hug.

After a minute, he said, “Thank you. I’m okay.”

“I don’t think you’re okay, but we won’t go into it now.”

Yes, he was love-starved in more ways than one.

They chatted like old buds. She asked, “I noticed your uniform yesterday. You’re a bus driver?”

“County transit. Seven years. I was young to be hired with them, but I never had a ticket or accident since I got my license at sixteen.” He adjusted his invisible halo and grinned.

“Seven years. As long as Joel’s been on the PD.”

* * * *

Joel was wide awake at four P.M. when he should be sleeping. He drove to Mom’s and noticed her and a stranger through the kitchen window. Maybe a new neighbor. Or con artist. He strode in, pulling Mom into the usual hug, kissing the top of her head.

“Hi, Mom.” He glared at the stranger wearing mom’s favorite apron with the map of Italy. The guy was clean cut with an air of familiarity to his face.

Mom said, “We were just talking about you—”

“What’s he selling?”

The man lost his smile.

“London was the one who helped me yesterday when I got hypoglycemic. Kuma approves of him, so you can turn off your overly protective cop attitude.” She smiled. “Joel, this is London. He’s a fan of mine.”

Kuma wormed his way between them, throwing his paws over Joel’s shoulders.

“There’s the puppy.” Joel stared at London. “You look familiar.”

London pursed his lips, and a sweet pink glow filled his cheeks. “Um, yeah. My picture’s been around the county and on TV. I’m the bus driver in the latest publicity campaign.”

Joel took in the handsome man with long shiny hair over his ears and touching his collar along with the front bangs. Joel felt he could come just staring at him.