Page 16 of Sass in the Grass

Jovian hoped that was just…coincidence.

They each took the stupid stick and told their names, their pronouns and a little about themselves, and Jovian discovered the others were right. Most were from small towns in Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah.

Jovian couldn’t imagine living in a small town. No clubs, no real places to shop. He imagined little old ladies selling out-of-style clothing in dusty stores as tumbleweeds blew by the windows.

Polyester, as far as the eye could see…

When Mike stood with the stick, Jovian tensed, as he knew he was next.

“Most of you know me, but those who don’t, I’m Mike, he/him. I’m originally from Peyton, Colorado, but moved to Colorado Springs in ’09. That was the best thing to happen to me besides Pride Camp, o’ course. Peyton, it…was great for football, but not so much for little gay kids, and beefy as I am now, I was a skinny little kid. And, well, back then, I found it a lot harder to hide my sexuality. Now, I’m out, proud and free, but plenty shaped me before that.”

Jovian felt a little attacked, like skinny kids couldn’t possibly hide their sexuality. Still, he hadn’t tried, not once. Mike handed him the stick and Jovian stood, though he still could barely see over those sitting in front, which was fine with him.

That was until True said, “Go ahead and stand on the bench, Jovian, so these nice people can see you.”

After a heavy eye roll, Jovian stood on the bench and swallowed his disdain for the entire ordeal. “I’m Jovian, like True said. Oh, yeah, he/him. I’m from Denver and…”

The way True was staring at him, it took him back to the club that fatal night. Those eyes, if they were covered in red and black makeup and thick fake lashes…

“You’re Clit!”

There were a few gasps, but more laughter.

True smirked and nodded. “Sure am, sugar.”

“You…you helped get me here!”

“I did. Now, give the rest of your introduction and hand the stick to the next person.”

His fury was complete, and he stepped off the bench, shoving the stick at Kathy before turning and heading out of the Mess Hall.

Before he could get far, True caught up to him. “Hey, Jovian.”

Spinning on his heel, he was like a viper as he struck out with his words. “You grifter! Are you having trouble filling your bunks? Can’t make rent?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We don’t do this for profit! Far from it, you little worm! You need to be here more than anyone else, and once you get that high and mighty head out of your ass, maybe you’ll see it! I’ll expect roses for an apology when you do.”

When True dropped that, he left Jovian in the middle of the camp, jaw dropped and mouth hanging open, which didn’t close until a bug flew into it.

Coughing, hacking and ready to puke, he was bent over when he heard the deep, baritone voice asks, “What’d ya do to pisshimoff?”

Jovian turned to see Dixon, and he wanted to scream. Of all times for them to meet, it was then?

Dixon walked right on by, laughing, and Jovian was left to want to melt into the dirt, though he had a sudden case of chills. “Why is this my life?”

Chapter Six

Therewereafewtruths in Jovian’s life that were undisputable. If it can happen, it will, and Dix seeing him hacking and coughing. Nearly puking in the middle of the gangway of the camp was one of those.

Miserable, he dragged himself to the cabin and fell back on the hard-as-stone bunk, knocking the rest of the wind from himself.

“God, how lame!”

The thing was, right in the middle of his internal meltdown when Dix set his eyes oh-so-briefly on Jovian, he got the chills again. It was like some weird sign or…or something.

He prayed his phone had bars and was delighted to see one. “Please, be enough for international! Wait…do I have to have bars for international? Who cares?”

He called Ciana, and as soon as he heard her voice, he cried, “Ci! I’ve died and went to hell!”

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