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Chapter 3: Interactions

Brandon-
I walk over to where the guys are at still busy hauling stuff from the house and carefully moving it into the garage. Eli looks over to me and then to Sam’s place. “What’s up?”

“I just met my new neighbor Sam; some little assholes just kinda trashed her place a bit.”

“Why?”

The guys sort of stop what they’re doing to listen in.

“Well she’s a trans girl here in this small town and there seems to be some that can’t handle it.”

I feel a little guilty outing Sam but these guys are my friends and I long ago learned who not to have in my life.

Bobby and Steve are kind of staring as Bobby speaks up. “So she’s like a dude right? Man, that’s all kinds of fucked up.”

I sigh and both Chuck and Eli are shaking their heads. Steve just looks confused.

“No Bobby it’s not like that, Sam’s a girl, just not a genetic one.”

“Huh? No man, a dude’s a dude and a chicks a chick.”

“Wrong dude, way wrong.”

“But the bible says it’s like wrong and stuff.”

“Bobby, look guy; God’s not about hate, that stuff comes from people. People in the churches and even in like other religions that can’t understand stuff. And they get all freaked out and bent out of shape about it.” I look him in his eyes.

“Sam’s really a girl but just had like a birth defect.”

“Brandon that’s like saying god made a mistake. God don’t make mistakes.” Steve’s nodding.

I take off my leather jacket and my plaid work shirt and tie the sleeves of it around my waist, then tie my hair back. I’ve had this argument before with a lot of people.

“Bobby, Steve, here’s my take on it alright? We did wrong and got kicked out of the Garden of Eden or whatever. God kinda said okay I’m just about done with you guys so you’re on your own. Now the world was a lot more clean back then right?”

They nod.

“So you’ve seen stuff right? Like toxic whatever gets into the air and the water and stuff right?”

They nod.

“So after all this time, all this junk getting into man’s systems and stuff. Then say in the last 2000 years, we hit the big time and things get really strange. We start to mess with radiation and industrial chemicals and all the drug companies stuff. And then there’s all the stuff that gets dumped that we’ll never know about, so we end up with like birth defects and crazy mutations and stuff right?”

They nod.

“So Sam’s got a girl’s soul that got stuck in a guy’s body because of something that more than likely, we did to ourselves over the course of building our society. Her brain’s a female brain and she’s not going against god so much as fixing herself to get to feel like who she truly is. So instead of being against god she’s just trying to get to be who she was meant to be. So she’s actually trying to get closer to god by being true to who she really is.”

They look a little confused, no very confused. I crack a beer and drain half of it. They slowly seem to start to get it. Eli looks amused. He says in French. “That’s as good an explanation as any; I think the whole two-spirited thing wouldn’t have gone over as well.” I nod, take another drink. “It’s not their fault, it’s the way these guys were brought up and they are from a not so liberal rural area.”

Steve looks at me. “Okay but the bible says, stuff about gays being like wrong and a sin.”

I just knew this’d come up.

“I’m not really sure on that guys. There’s a lot of wacky stuff in the bible that just don’t apply today. It was written for the time in which it was being written. For example, I like clams and lobster and those aren’t supposed to be allowed and I don’t keep slaves and a bunch of other stuff that is allowed. But I’ll go this far alright? Hating gay people isn’t in the ten commandments, Jesus told us to set the old aside and embrace the new. So in the new testament, he kinda said to basically just be a good person and don’t treat anybody like crap right.”

They nod. I feel like I’m teaching school here.

“So being a shit to people because they’re different than you isn’t Christian. It’s not loving thy neighbor either plus there’s that judge not lest ye be judged thing. I mean if any of us really sat back and looked at our lives and the stuff we’ve done, even the small stuff and add it up we might not be the oh so nice people we think we are, adding hating somebody for being different is just adding on the pile.”

“But the preachers and the priests and them guys in the Vatican say it’s wrong.”

“Jesus preached on the side of a hill guys, not in a church. Those are just men who are teaching their versions of the faith. There’s a huge difference between the different churches and in the way they interpret the world. To me there’s a huge difference between religion and faith.”

They nod and Bobby goes off again. “But…”

I have to cut him off, the entire argument is circular and to me useless on a global scale.

“Look guy’s it’s like this; everyone who is different is different for a reason, but we just don’t know it yet. I just don’t get the hate thing. I mean we’ve all seen how gay people and lesbians and anyone else who doesn’t fit into the box get treated. So why in the world would anybody choose to put themselves through hell like that? They don’t. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t want to fit in with everyone else. The ones who are out or trying to change are just tired of hiding away in shame. They just need to be who they are. Guys in other parts of the world kill people for being gay or just different. If you guys are going to have a problem with it or me or me being friends with Sam you might as well go home now.”

Bobby just smiles a bit shaking his head. “Hell Brandon, I’m not really that big a religious guy. I’m not a gay basher and there’s some stuff you said that kinda makes sense especially for a godless heathen like yourself. Nah, I’m not gonna have a problem with her. Besides I get told every Sunday by my girlfriend’s pastor that I’m bound for hell anyway. Why? Are you into her?”

“A bit, I might be. I dunno, I might not once I get to know her. Hell she could be a flaming bitch too. Trans girls can be just as much of an asshole as anyone else. But yeah…I’m interested. I just want to know if you guys will help me fix the damage that was done to her place. It just needs a bit of work. It looks like it’s been awhile since she’s had a little bit of just plain old human decency.”

There’s a chorus of yeahs and sures and no problems from the guys so I get a few tools and stuff and tell them what looks like it needs doing.

Sam-

I’m all different kinds of confused as I rush upstairs panicked by the guy…Brandon, his name’s Brandon. He said he’d be over in an hour or so. I bump into the doorway to my room and get caught up in my sweatshirt trying to haul it off over my head. I manage to get out of my sports bra without incident then get into the shower.

I’m nervous as hell. I get soap in my eyes because I’ve got too much hair. I’m weird, if you didn’t get that part already. I love my hair, it’s long and awesome until I go to wash it, or get it caught in something. I just don’t have the life experience of living with it yet.

Them it’s conditioner and blow drying, then choosing what to wear. He knows what I am and he said that he didn’t have a problem with it.

Actually he said good choice…WTF did he mean by that? Being me wasn’t a choice?

Back to the clothes, he knows, so should I go girly and surprise him or just dress in my everyday stuff? I’m not good at girly, I’m not one of those frilly girls. I don’t identify with them and I don’t have a clue how to fit in with them.

Okay…decent bra and underpants, soft yellow t-shirt with a scoop neck, and a comfortable pair of jeans and my sneakers. I use a deodorant spray I like; I kinda go for the baby powder scent more than anything else. I brush my hair out one more time and put on a bit of lip gloss.

I stare at myself in the mirror so unsure if I’m going to pass muster as a woman. My stomach’s full of RCAF size butterflies doing rolls and turns.

I’m shaken out of my trance when I hear voices and laughter outside. I steal a glance out my window and there’s like nine guys outside with tools and stuff. Nine guys and just me…I’m scared!

I go downstairs carefully, just in case there’s someone in the house. God I hope not; one, I’m just about browning my panties and two, my place is a mess. No I’m not a total slob, my place is clean, it’s just messy. I haven’t mentally been in shape to really get organized since coming home. I’ve been stuck in a two year rut.

Looking out my window I see two guys, one’s mowing my lawn and another’s cutting out the damaged sod. He’s cutting and laying down pieces of new sod where he’s removed the destroyed bits. I see two native (Indian) teens with garbage bags gathering up the trash that’s around the place, just stuff that’s been there since I’ve been home. I’ve been meaning to toss it myself but I just never got around to it. Another native kid is running one of those whipper snipper things and an older native guy with a white guy is blasting the old paint and the sprayed on stuff off the house with some kind of air-pressure thing. I look around and spot Brandon.

He’s ditched the leather jacket and has his plaid shirt tied around his waist like one of those grunge guys. His tool belt is fastened around his waist and he’s just wearing a black t-shirt and I can’t help but stare. He’s got these huge shoulders and these absolutely ripped arms. The thick broad chest don’t hurt his case either. I’m even digging the long pony tail and the glasses. He’s got a bandanna on made of what looks like silk in a vibrant tiger stripe motif. He looks up at me and smiles.

He said he’s straight and still he’s smiling at me. I kinda stop in the doorway melting ever so slightly. I’ve never really had this happen to me before. I know I’m blushing but I manage to smile back a little and go over to where he’s working.

He’s got several of those folding work bench things out and my heart goes all melty squishy when I see what he’s working on. My mom’s hand painted flower boxes that those assholes drove over.

He’s got them cleaned off and he’s somehow fixed them already. I mean they’re all clamped together so I think he glued them. He’s got a box of all these different colored paints out and he’s restoring the paint job my mom had done when she originally painted them. He’s got this look like he could tear the door off a car if you got him pissed with his huge hands but he’s being really delicate putting them back together the way they used to be.

I’ve got this huge lump in my throat. And there’s tears sliding down my face. I didn’t want to look like this, not in front of these guys but…This kind of guy, this kind of kindness is really out of my experience.

“Ttthh, thank you.” I kind of manage to sniffle out.

He looks at me.

He’s got these big green brown, these hazel eyes that just remind me of a big cedar forest. Gold rimmed glasses in that sort of John Lennon style just take him kind of out of thug/biker into I don’t know what.

“I saw that you were more upset about these.”

“Yeah, my mom made them.”

“They’re special. I can tell.”

“Mom never did much of this kind of stuff and she was really proud of them.”

“Here.” He takes my hand and gently pulls me over to him and puts the brush in my hand. My brain shorts out a little at being pulled over to him. That natural male power and strength bringing me to him. There wasn’t anything harsh or mean or thug like about it. It was just…I don’t…know. Then how gently he’s taking my hand.

“I’m, uhm, I’ve never done this before I might mess it up.”

“No you won’t, it’s too important, besides I know you can do this.”

“How do you know I can?”

“Because you care about it, and you’re your mother’s daughter.”

I turn my head and stare at him. I try to see if he’s messing with me. Brandon just stares back. I might as well try to out stare a mountain. I turn away and try; I really try not to screw it up.

“Good, good. Just relax and picture her doing it. Just like she did the first time, just follow her hand, the lines she used.” His hand is over mine just a bit and guiding it. I swear I can feel her there as I’m painting. It mixes in with him too.

Have you ever had one of those Patrick Swayze/Demi Moore moments like they showed in the movie Ghost with the two of them at the pottery wheel? Me neither. I didn’t even remotely think it was a possibility. Just romance story stuff and stuff from the movies. Now I’m here with Brandon, doing this in the afternoon sun, smelling his scent, feeling his body heat just inches from me. The strength he has in him even though he’s as gentle as can be guiding my hand and the brush.

All that’s missing is unchained Melody playing in the background. I hurt…I literally hurt in the best way ever. I’ve never ached for a man so much in my life.

Then my idiot mouth blurts out. “It wasn’t a choice you know.”

“I’m sorry Sam. I didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I meant I guess that, it was a good choice. I’ve know other transgendered people and some never transition. Some can’t, others are just too scared and live a really hard messed up life. I’m just saying you seem perfect like this.”

“Perfect, I’m hardly perfect. I’m not even done yet.”

“No, what I meant you seem completely natural like this.”

“This is the person I was supposed to be Brandon.”

“I know.”

“Yeah? How do you know?” How the hell is this guy so sure of himself?

“I can see it when I look at you.”

“See what?” I turn around and give him the thousand yard stare attempt again. Nothing. He just seems to absorb it. He just says it like saying I’m going to get some milk…

“I can see your soul shining through your skin.”

WTF?

What can you say to something like that?

Oh me and my double jointed leg and my foot must have been needing the security of my mouth as I once more blurts out, “So, what are you some kind of tranny-chaser?”

God why did I just say that? I turn red and lower my head. “Sorry.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t chase anybody.” There’s just a hint of this strength there but also this cocky funniness too.

“So you do this with all the girls?”

“Nope, you’re the first.”

“You seem to know a lot about my condition.”

“Like I said, I’ve know other transgender people, even dated a few.”

“Dated…Like you’ve…”

“Dated. That’s it. If I like somebody more than that, then if stuff happens, it happens, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t and we both had a good time and I made a friend.”

“So you’d sleep with somebody like me?”

“Only if we were in a serious relationship.”

“Really, you wouldn’t be freaked out?”

“It’s just body parts Sam; it’s got less to do with the person than too many people think.”

“But why go out with a trans girl when you could go out with a real girl?”

“I went out with those girls because I liked them and wanted to get to know them.”

“So it’s not a turn on, a fetish thing.”

“No, it’s not a fetish thing. I don’t really have a fetish thing.”

“Oh…”

“Besides” There this warming humor in his voice now.

“Besides what?”

“Only a real girl would stress out so much about this stuff.”

“Hey!” I spin my head around and he starts to sputter on a mouthful of my hair. We both start laughing. I kinda realize he’s kind of holding me. I’ve never actually laughed like this. I’ve laughed before don’t get me wrong but this was different, really different. This is me laughing like a girl, getting to be a girl and somehow he’s taken the stress I have about the way I am away. He’s letting me feel like I’ve always felt I should be.

As a girl, with a really nice guy.

And no bullshit.

God Brandon…please be real, please don’t be fake.

Please…

I think he saw it. I think he felt it. That scared part of me, because he gives me this hug. It’s this big strong gentle hug by a guy with arms like steel and biceps as thick as my thighs. “C’mon this is a bit heavy for the first few hours of us knowing each other. Let’s leave these to dry and go see what else needs doing and I’ll introduce you to the guys okay?”

“Sniff…Okay.” Yes I’m crying again. Just a little but I need to. It’s all so fast and so intense and he’s like nobody I’ve ever met. He even takes my arm as we go over to the two guys working on my lawn.

I’m a bit shy as we go over. The two guys are Bobby and Steve Simpson. Brothers from Black Wells, Alberta and they’re big guys over six feet tall and built. They stare at me? And sort of check me out in the way that guys do. Bobby smiles and shakes my hand like a gentleman. “It’s really nice to meet you miss Sam. I’m gonna be a bit forward and say you’re one heck of a pretty lady considering all the stuff you had ta go through to get where you are now.”

A cold chill runs right down my spine. “Excuse me?”

He looks at me and smiles this big dopey cowboy/boy scout smile. “It just that I’m saying I’d never been able to tell that you weren’t born like this and all. No offence miss.”

He knows! Do they all know?

Oh crap, oh crap, oh, crap, oh crap. oh crap!

I’m dead.

“Miss Sam?”

I’m shaking, I can’t help it. If they all known then…I’m…The tears start to fall.

“Oh Jeaze! I’m Sorry miss Sam, I just shoulda kept ma big trap shut. I didn’t mean to scare ya or nuthin.”

The other guy Steve nods his head. “Yeah me neither.”

Brandon carefully turns me to face him. “Sam, Sam look at me.”

I look at him. I’m only seeing concern in those eyes.

“We all know, and it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” My voice is in my quiet shy, I’m f-ing scared mode.

God. Bobby does that thing where the hat comes off in a sweep and is held over his heart, his brother Steve mirrors it like they’re twins. “No miss, it wouldn’t be Christian of us to judge you about nothing before we knew you and such. You’re just trying to be who god made you right?”

Never in my life…I faint. It’s too much.

I’m down for just a few minutes but in that bit of darkness I hear the rotor chop in the background from the lawnmower and I’m back in the rear compartment of the chopper on our way out over of the maze like foothills between Afghanistan and Pakistan. I swear I can feel the side to side movement of the chopper…

No, it’s me being shaken gently. I slowly crack an eyelid, still not quite sure if I’m really here. I’ve actually got this sneaky little thought hiding in the back of my head that I could be dreaming all of this. I could be back in the soft rubber room in Toronto, or I could be in shock back on the side of the road in Afghanistan. I can smell the exhaust from the mower, it lends to the being in Afghanistan feeling. It’s Bobby and Steve that bring me back. Of all things to get me back to the present.

“H’yup she’s a girl alright Brandon.”

“H’yup.” I can almost see Steve nodding agreeing with his brother.

It’s sweet in this cowboy, redneck kind of way. Me fitting his, no their, expectations of a girly archetype. It’s so messed up I couldn’t help but snicker, then giggle.

“I take it you’re okay then?”

“Yeah, I…I fainted didn’t I?”

“I think that’s my fault Sam, I kind of told everyone about who I met when I came over here.”

I look up into Brandon’s face; he’s got this smile in his eyes.

“You told everyone.”

“Yeah I did.”

“Why? I mean, why?”

“They’d have figured it out Sam. Normally nice young ladies don’t have that kind of stuff done to their yard or sprayed on their walls. So I told them.”

“And they’re all good with it?”

“Yeah, we actually try to not be assholes.”

I blush, and stare at him and the two guys still holding their hats but smiling shyly after my fainting spell and giddy fit.

“Sam?”

“Uhm, yeah?” God he smiled a little when I went uhm.

“Where were you just a few minutes ago?”

“Huh?”

“You opened you eyes but you weren’t here.”

“Oh…Why?” My voice can’t help but get a little quieter.

“You look like you were back somewhere bad?”

I look at Brandon and really look. He knows about this, he’s seen it before. I also notice some of his scars under the tan on his arms aren’t from work accidents. I’m a combat medic; he’s seen action of some kind too. There’s a bullet graze scar on the midpoint of his right bicep. I don’t usually talk about this. Then again being who I am now I don’t really have anyone to talk to. Brandon really knowing. It makes a difference.

“Afghanistan. Up over the foothills near the Khyber Pass area I was in a helio that was shot down.” I gesture at the lawnmower. “I guess while I was out the sound and smells kind of took me away, sorry guys.” I see Brandon’s getting it in his eyes. Bobby and Steve are looking at me differently. But it’s not being a freak, it’s respect…?

Brandon helps me up and I’m more than a little shaky. “C’mon lets walk it off and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys.” I nod but don’t let go of his arm. We walk around and he introduces me to the two young native boys. John and Josh Taylor, they’re really nice kids about 14 or so and twins. They’re both staring at me. They know, and being teens I know they’re going to stare but. I’m still scared. And Brandon sends them back to work with some words in Haida?

I can’t help but look at him again. He smiles again. “Eli, their dad and I grew up together. There’s a bunch of reserves in the Annapolis Valley where I grew up. My dad knew his dad and made sure I learned Mic-Mac and Malecite.”

I shake my head. “So what exactly did you say to everyone that they…that they seem okay with all of this.” We actually lean against my old beater of a truck and he starts cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. Who carries those nowadays?, Brandon of course. I’m seeing things in him. Like the explanation of how he explained what’s going on with me. The thing is it’s got me thinking too. I’ve never really thought about myself that way. I mean, there’s these pro-gay churches but I’ve never really liked them. There was always something so kitch about them.

But the thought about me, going through everything I’m going through in order to feel like the me that I’m supposed to feel like, bringing me closer to God?

“Brandon? Do you feel…Do you think that’s true?”

He shrugs then pauses a bit. “Yes, I think I do. I mean I’m not really into it but there’s stuff out there in life you see or do and you can’t help but think about bigger things sometimes right?”

“I’ve never really felt god was there for me.”

“There’s a lot of people out there who feel the same way Sam.”

“But, I mean…if it’s true?”

He sighs, but it’s not a tired one just, world weary. Yet right after he’s taking a big inhale and soaking up the sunshine. “Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Does it help?”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve really got to think about it but it helps mostly knowing that there’s people out there that can think of people like me like this. That what we put ourselves through to feel right in our own bodies. In our own minds it feels so right to us because we’re becoming our true selves and that brings us closer to god.”

“So it helps.”

“Yeah.”

Okay I never thought stuff like this, about God and stuff mattered. But I do feel better?

We go and meet Eli and Chris who are fixing my wall. Actually Eli is cleaning off another side while Chris is putting the first coat of primer on. Eli’s a really nice guy, kind of like the native guy on Law and Order or the movie Wind-talkers but with long hair. Chris is a nice guy too but he’s one of those shy guys with very hot, long blonde hair, blue eyes, who works with his hands. Actually most of the guys are really descent and some even very good looking. But he‘s no Brandon.

Brandon…

Brandon, passes me a set of gloves and a paint scraper. “We might as well do the whole house so it looks right.”

“Why are you guys even doing this?”

Brandon starts scraping and going over the front of the house. “Several reasons. One, it’s never a waste giving a person the benefit of the doubt, because you never know what kind of battles they’re fighting. Two, I like being a good neighbor, and three is Quid-pro-quo.”

“Huh?”

“You can pay me back by helping over at my place.”

“Oh, cool.”

Eli switches with Chris and starts mixing paints while Chris primers the next side. “I never waste a chance to teach my boys about doing the right thing.” he says while working. Chris just nods as he’s spraying. “I like to think I’m a good guy, I wouldn’t be a good guy if I didn’t help people out.” Honestly I didn’t think guys like these really existed. They usually don’t for people like me.

The rest of the morning actually goes by in a really normal way. We talk about what we’re doing to the house and Bobby and Steve start to help us replacing the old weak boards on my front and back steps and then painting them. Chuck’s this French guy who comes over from Brandon’s place with these really great smoked salmon baguette sandwiches and beers. He’s friendly and funny and makes great food, which apparently is why he’s here. To cook for the guys.

He’s another one of Brandon’s old friends from when he worked on an oil rig in the Atlantic.

We just do stuff. We paint and talk and fix things for my place and listen to music from the local soft rock station on my truck’s radio. They treat me like the girl I’ve been fighting to be, even trying to get my own self image right in my head. Spending hours just doing something so normal, being treated like I’m me.

I’m hanging around with nine guys who treat me like a woman. It’s different than I’ve read in TG fiction stuff where the heroine is treated all sweet and stuff, or like the teen I never got to be. No, just a woman. They use manners but not too much and they don’t treat me like some flower. I’m actually treated like one of the guys, but like they’d treat a real girl if they treated her like one of the guys.

I get to spend the entire day like that…I actually forget for the afternoon that I wasn’t born this way. By the time we’re done my yard is fixed and I’ve got a new set of steps on the front and back of my house. The boys, the twins even washed my windows and cleaned up the garage for me. My house has this light, light brown paint on it now with the trims and things a dark brown and small things in white. I can’t get over how pretty it is.

The guys leave but I’m invited for supper. I head inside, tired and dirty and covered in more paint than I thought I had got on me and pretty much ruined my outfit. You know what? I don’t mind. I have a few hours since supper’s at seven, so I actually go a little girl crazy. It feels like there’s been a truck taken off my back. You know how my place just fell behind because it was so hard, just to get going, to get over things. I feel supercharged and end up putting on my favorite band Bon Jovi really loud and find myself dancing and singing along to “It’s my life” in the shower.

I bag up a bunch of clutter left over from Dad and Mom that I never gotten rid of like magazines and old newspapers and just junk really. I set it in the porch and even throw on a bunch of laundry. I hang my girls clothes out on my clothesline for the very first time.

I feel like I’m running up my own flag to the world saying Yes!, I’m a woman!

I take the last bit of time to really get ready. I do my hair as best as I can. I try the same with my make up and just a bit of lipstick and a summery flower print sun dress in yellow with I think they call them brown eyed susans and red daisies on it. I even dab on a bit of my favorite perfume.

I head over next door with an old wooden soda box full of the hard stuff my dad owned. I’ll never use it so I think it’ll be okay to take over. I’m smiling and humming as I head over to see Brandon and the boys.

Mmmn, I can smell the stuff being grilled already.

Henry Wade-

He followed Brandon out here although he already knew where he was going and parked at an access road with a view of the ranch and the old Chase house. He was going to make another offer but then he saw Brandon go over to the tranny’s house.

He didn’t really like what he had seen all day.

He frowned as he watched the tranny freak take some things over to what should’ve been his property. Except some other guy who was doing light work and then stuff with a BBQ, Brandon and his gang had been over her house all morning. He took a drag off his cigar and sipped his coffee.

He had tried to get the fag off the place and when his attempt to bully the freak off of the place for squatting hadn’t worked, he had told a local bunch of red necks who worked the train yard about her. He had bought them drinks a few times and it didn’t take much to get these guys to go and harass him.

Each time they did it, he came a day or two later and offered to buy “her” out. She was wearing down. She…No he, He was weakening, like the little freak he was. It might have finally been time, but no, Brandon hadn’t just messed with his chance at his Grandfather’s ranch but she was literally bouncing over there.

“Yeah, We’ll fucking see about that.” He snapped some pictures of “Her” and the way she was smugly happy and dressed and the house and the women’s things out on the clothesline.

He knew people that’d very predictably lose it when he’d spin how “She” was flaunting it.

The crate of bottles would be a nice touch. One of the pastors in town hated gays but he also hated booze. Hell the man hated nearly everything. He’d go into a frothing at the mouth rage once he got an envelope of these pictures.

Brandon, he’d have to see what his lawyers could do for now. His friends weren’t going to be here forever.

Then, then he’d play in his world by his rules.

He turned his Escalade around and headed back to Bridgeview.