Page 29 of Sticks and Stones
Thank you, God. You really do exist, and you love a gay man a whole hell of a lot to make this a reality.
To be able to watch Ethan half-naked on the beach, and to get him drunk on Pina Coladas?
It was well worth it.
As they were both putting the finishing touches on packing, they couldn’t wait to get to their flight.
It was leaving in a few hours.
Then, they’d be free ofPhilly, and the winter snow that was perpetually making their lives a chilly hell.
“I’m drinking on the plane,” Gene admitted. “I’m warning you now. If you go to the bathroom, I’m following and we’re going to play‘bear mauling a Native in the contained space’,” he warned. “You had your fun in the shower, and I’m having my fun in a small space ten thousand feet in the air.”
Ethan laughed.
“You’re insane,” he said. “How about you don’t maul me where other people shit, and instead, you get me a drink, and we’ll get disorderly together when we land?”
He kissed his man.
“Oh, Baby, that’s a deal. Thank you for this present. I can’t wait to use it—and by use it, I mean spend all of our week on holiday fornicating with the hottest man I know.”
Ethan winked at him.
“Did I mention when I’m in the sun, I get really tan, really fast?”
He stared at him and didn’t say a single, solitary word. Instead, his gaze never wavered.
“What?” Ethan asked when he saw him staring.
“Sorry, I was picturing you with no tan lines, and a wet dick from the copious amounts of head I’m planning to give my hot, tan, Native man.”
He did a little jig as he rolled his bag toward the door so he could call for the cab.
The city would have to take care of itself until they got back from the beach.
At that moment, Javier Hughes was in jail. Funny enough, he was denied bail, since he kept trying to hurt a Fed. He was stuck there until his trial in the spring.
The tides were turning against the man, and that meant they were safe.
It probably had something to do with Willis Finch, his stooge, turning for state’s evidence to save his own ass.
Yeah, it was a good day in Gene’s world.
When Ethan rolled his suitcase out, he had a bottle of tanning oil in his hand. It was the kind people used to get that island glow.
But there was a problem.
Gene lifted a brow.
“My dude, I’m mayonnaise white and from the Midwest. That will cook me like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. I need SPF four thousand to sit on our balcony in the daylight.”
Blackhawk couldn’t help himself.
He laughed.
“Smell it.”
He tossed Gene the bottle, and it was like coconut and the beach trapped in the plastic container.
