Chapter 30

What could he possibly see in me?

“Y’all ready?” he asked, trying out a Southern accent.

“Let’s get her done,” I said, trying to sound confident. I collected my camera and wallet, and gave directions as Jackson drove to the Furniture Market area on Coley Road.

We looked at kitchen tables, beds, sofas, recliners, and dressers. Unlike Southern gay boys, Jackson didn’t blend into the background. He was too well-dressed, too well-groomed, had no facial hair, and didn’t scratch his ass from time to time just to remind the world that he was a goddamn man, by God, and don’t you forget it.

We had a certain sort of fun and raised more than a few eyebrows as two men and a deaf boy laid down on beds to see if they would “fit right,” laughing and giggling all the while.

Having made his choices and arranged for delivery later that evening, lunch was the next thing on the agenda.

“I will defer to your better judgment,” Jackson said with regard to the choice of restaurant.