Don't Read in the Closet volume one (70 page)

Sincerely,

Judith

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
coming out, cop, first love,
friends to lovers, police, soldier

Words:
7,988

STORM OF PASSION

By
Dustin Adrian Rhodes

Within each of
us lies a storm of passion.

Climbing from
the Greyhound bus, his combat boots made a thud, coming into contact with the
severely crumbling pavement. Taking in the view of the quaint town, as if it
were for the first time, he was relieved to be home. Surprised, during the ten
years he had served in the army, the quiet rural town had not changed as he had
expected. There was Grover's Drug and Gifts, The Palladium Theater, JC Penney's,
VanCleeve's Ladies Wear; Stocker's Shoe Store with the same faded Red Goose
sign. On the opposite side of the street, there was the volunteer fire station,
Fuch's Funeral Home (pronounced FOX, why they had not legally changed the
family name was beyond anyone’s comprehension), the Piggly Wiggly Market, the
Baptist Church, and of course, Morrison's Cafe. Down the center of town ran an
unmarked, two lane asphalt street. Not much of a place to look at, there was a
remote chance Norman Rockwell might have been inspired to capture the eccentric
town on canvas, had anyone known of its existence, did not even rank a speck
mark on road maps.

There had been
no hero's ticket-tape parade, no marching band or anyone for that matter to
welcome him back. A sleepy little town where the greatest excitement came from
guffawing at Beulah, old man Howard's milking cow; which frequently escaped the
pasture to sashay down Main Street. The old saying “there’s no place like home”
is true, because honestly, there was no place like this town, but it was home,
his home and he was glad to be back.

“I declare, as
I live and breath, if it ain't little Jaime Duncan.” Exclaimed, a portly woman,
rushed to greet him with pudgy outreached arms, squeezing him in an
enthusiastic bear hug, he swore his ribs were bruised. Madge had not changed a
bit, white waitress uniform, silvery blue hair coiffed like a huge cotton candy
ball on top her chubby smiling face. Swirling in a fragrant bouquet aura of
rose water and Aqua Net, wrinkling his nose, did he detect a recent addition to
her repertoire, could it be Ben Gay? Hugging him, he was certain her overly
made up lacquered face imprint was permanently embedded on his shirt collar and
there was no mistaking the huge false eyelashes tickling his neck.

“Madge,"
pulling from her arms, he held her soft hands; scanning the woman from head to
toe. “Just as lovely as always,” planting a tender peck on her flushing cheek.

“Oh you,”
playfully swatting him with a dish towel, “still the charmer.” Drawing him into
her voluptuous bosom, she forced yet another strangulating embrace. “It's so
good seeing you again boy, welcome home.” Pulling back, dabbing her leaking
eyes with the towel, “Oh dear lord, where are my manners, let's get you
settled. Hon, would you like a table or a booth?” radiating a contagious smile
with all the warmth and brilliance of a dazzling halogen bulb.

“How about a
booth?”

He had
forgotten how friendly and warm folks from a small town could be. Lingering,
hazy memories of his childhood began to come into focus, growing sharper and
more vivid in his mind. During the bus trip, he had needlessly worried, after
all these years; he might not feel like he fit in, but all that was vanishing.
Scanning the cafe, Madge literally drug him by the hand to an available booth.
In the flurry, he recognized smiling faces and honest to goodness genuine waves
from folks he thought he had long forgotten. Resurfacing memories, sweet
lovable Madge, being
back
home, all of it was a tad
overwhelming for this small town boy.

Madge parked
him in a center booth of Morrison's Cafe, making him feel like he were the
floor show at the only diner in town. Tossing his cap on the empty space next
to him, the camouflage fabric of green, brown and white reminded him, even though
he was dressed in army fatigues, he was no longer property of the US Army. He
was looking forward to returning to civilian life. Transitioning from years of
military discipline would most definitely be awkward, but he had proudly served
his country, looking forward to transforming from GI-Joe to Regular-Joe. Lost
in thought, a friendly hand clapped his shoulder, he spun around. Paralyzed.
Stunned speechless, he gawked at the apparition lingering next to his table.

“What's with
you? You look as if you've just seen a god-dang ghost!” followed by a familiar
exhilarating laugh from his youth. “Don't you remember me, your best bud
Parker?”

Shocked to be
ogling his best friend from high school, but the man was drop-dead gorgeous.
Not to say he had not been good looking before, obviously time and working out
had been more than generous to him. Jaime found it difficult to not gape upon
the tanned muscled man with buzzed auburn hair and deep set emerald eyes.

“Uh – sorry,
you've grown up since I last saw you.” Jaime blushed from rose to crimson, as a
bound-and-determined boner bloomed in his boxers.

“Hey, look at
you, a military man, with your army hair cut,” rustling Jaime's short cropped
sandy brown hair. “Muscles? Where did these come from?” squeezing Jaime's
biceps with a teasing grin. “You're not exactly the kid you were when you left
after graduation. What's this,” brushing Jaime's stubbled cheek with the back
of his hand, “a 5 o'clock shadow at 8:10 in the mornin'? Hell-fire, the last
time I saw you, you'd barely begun to scrape your face," enthusiastically
gliding into the opposite bench, refusing to take his eyes off Jaime, afraid to
blink, fearful his best friend would disappear again. “You home for good? Or
are you too cool for us simple folk now?”

“What?”

“Hell you've
been in Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and who knows where the hell else. You're a
traveled man, a man of the world. No one would hold it against you for not
wanting to return to the boring rural life. We can't hold a candle to the world
you've see.”

“You know, with
a convincing spiel like that, I'm appalled you're not heading up the local
Chamber of Commerce.” Jaime laughed.

“Touché,”
nodding his head, he snickered. “You’re right. I'm sorry. Maybe I came on a
little too strong. But, this is home for me, and once, it was yours as well.”

“Yeah, I know.
I had a lot of time to think on the bus ride, and did a lot of soul searching.
My tour is over and it's time to get on with my life. Honestly, I couldn't
imagine anywhere I'd rather be than right here, in our backward one-horse town,
where nothing changes but the seasons. I'm
back
home
to stay.” Jaime smiled. Plagued earlier by serious doubts, simply saying the
words out load made all the difference in the world. He
was
home. There
were no regrets, he was certain of that. Home, where he had grown up,
surrounded by good decent folks and reunited with his best bud. Could life get
much better than this?

Gazing across
the table at his best bud, he could not help but wonder,
how many nights
have I gone to sleep dreaming of Park, never imagining he’d grown up. No.
Transformed into a hot, sexy, hunk of man flesh. Grrr!
Dancing emerald eyes
which had always mesmerized him, a quick killer smile curling devilishly in the
corner, the most perfect lips he had ever seen, he would give almost anything,
to just once, feel those alluring lips pressed tight to his. But, he knew that
would never happen
,
Parker was as straight as they
come. Even though he had come out to Parker when they were in their teens, it
had never been an issue in their friendship. All those years he had secretly
yearned for Parker, telling
himself
their friendship
was too valuable to risk losing, he would rather die than tell him his true
feelings.

“So, buddy,
what're your plans, now that you're back?”

Eager
Parker, just like old times, looking to me to have a plan or agenda, it might
be a camping trip, fishing, anything. Park always looked to me for what we'd do
next.
“Well, the first item on the agenda is to sleep in late,” he chuckled, “that's
my first adjustment to being a civie.”

Parker grinned.
“I suppose you've got a lot to readjust to. Damn, it's just so good seeing you
again. Just promise you won't ever leave again,” smiling, while boring deep
into Jaime's gentle hazel eyes.

What’d
he mean by that, “promise not to leave again?”

“It's just not
been the same around here without you, ya know?” shaking his head, flashing his
trademark Pepsodent smile. Jaime nearly creamed his pants.

Madge presented
a platter of sliced ham, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, biscuits and a stack
of buttermilk pancakes to a perplexed, open mouthed Jaime. “What's all this?”

“Hon, in these
parts, we don't often get the pleasure to serve our military boys, let alone a
hero. Complements of the house,” beaming like a proud momma sow, showing off
her liter of newborn piglets, “just think of it as our way of saying thank you.
And son, we're so proud of you and welcome home.”

“A hero?”
Parker asked, with piquing interest.

Brandishing a
dismissive wave, Jaime shook his head. “Hey, I'm no hero, alright? I just
served my country in the best way I knew.”

“Hon, that's a
hero in my book.” Smiling, she sniffled, fluttering heavily mascaraed false
eyelashes, combating a sudden onset of emotional tears; like two Monarch
butterflies preparing to take flight. Turning to Parker, “You're usual, babe?”

Parker nodded,
not taking his challenging cross-examining eyes off Jaime. Was he keeping
something from him?
Or is Jaime just being modest? But, a hero?

Ducking his
head, Jaime did not want his best bud to notice the tears pooling in his eyes.
Damn
it Madge, you're making me all teary in front of the only man I've ever loved
and he's straight.

Advancing
outside the pleasantly cooled air of Morrison's, Jaime and Parker were
assaulted as they stepped into an intense furnace as the broiling July sun beat
down on the bleached, baking asphalt. Wavy lines of oppressive heat weaved
above the sweltering oily pavement; reminding Jaime of the fiery fever
generated from the parched desert sands overseas. Jaime had forgotten how
quickly the Georgia summer mornings warmed. Glancing at his wrist watch, it was
nearly 11, had they reminisced that long? Familiarity prevailed, even after all
these years. It seemed their friendship had merely been held captive in a state
of suspended animation, until today, when the clock resumed ticking once again.

“You need to be
somewhere?” noticing Jaime checking his watch.

“No not
really.” Suspecting Parker had things to do. “I guess, I should be heading to
the house,” giving Parker an excuse to leave, not that he actually wanted him
to.

“You're not
going to stay in
that
old house tonight are you?” Parker's rugged face
bristled with disbelief.

“Sure,” he
shrugged. “I expect it'll need some cleaning up and all. Hey, I've bunked in a
hell of a lot worse places.”

The Duncan
house had not been inhabited for more than nine years. Parker had boarded up
the old place after Jaime's parents had been killed in a tragic car accident
just off South Interstate 75. Even today, no one knows what caused the Duncan
car to veer off the highway. Jaime had barely joined the military, Parker tried
to contact him, he had been unable to reach him till several days after the
funeral. Jaime was devastated when he learned the news, but there was little he
could do, Parker had stepped in and taken care of the arrangements in Jaime's
absence. He owed a lot to Parker for doing that for him. Not having been home
since he joined the army, Jaime was not entirely sure he was ready to deal with
the estate which had sat dormant for nearly a decade. Being sole survivor of
the family now, his baby brother had passed when he was only 9, drowning in a
flash flood. Jaime had tried to save him but the current had been too strong,
washing his brother out of his arms and down the river. The body was never
found. That memorable flood changed his parents forever, becoming overly
protective of their remaining child and devoting their lives to being devout
Southern Baptists.

“You're bunkin'
with me, soldier. That's an order,” poorly attempting to imitate a drill
sergeant. Jaime cracked up laughing.

He had
forgotten how easily Parker could make him laugh, even when things seemed their
bleakest, he could always depend on Park. The Duncan family homestead was more
than likely in worse condition than he had imagined. Parker was probably right;
besides, the old house was not where he wanted to be anyway. Secretly, he ached
to be alone with Parker.