Page 15 of The Trailer Park Twink
On second thought, maybe this is afantasticidea.
I’m a bundle of nerves on the ride to Daddy’s friend’s house. His big, loud truck is roaring out its obnoxious song as the Texas backroads twist and turn, taking us out of our small-town setting, entering us intoDeliverance. I just hope I make it out of this alive.
When he made it home earlier, I went against his wishes, sneaking out my window and meeting him by the road. Thankfully, he didn't call me out or say I wasn't a real man because I couldn't stick around to face my problems head-on. He just took my hand, drove us to the movie theater, and let me hold his hand for two whole movies. When the movies were over, he informed me I was about to have the best night of my life.
Then he told me it was a house party. Sigh.
Dallas has to know how nervous I am. He knows how I feel about being surrounded by a swarm of straight men. It’s not that I’m heterophobic or anything, it’s just, when you’re born gay and grow up around boys who constantly tease and taunt you for something you have no power over, it makes you realize rather quickly those men cannot be trusted. I’ve been punched and kicked and pummeled into oblivion by men like the ones we’re visiting tonight, and while I know Dallas would never let anyone hurt me, it’s still scary to be the odd man out.
“You don’t have to be scared.” Dallas has his eyes locked on the twisting country road ahead. Despite the fact that wehaven’t seen another car in the last fifteen minutes, I’m not sure why he flicks on his blinker before taking a right at a fork in the road, but this is Dallas, and who the hell knows what goes on in that beautiful head of his. “These guys are my friends. They ain’t gonna say nothing to hurt your feelings. They know they’ll have me to answer to, if they do.”
“My knight in shining denim,” I say with a nervous chuckle. His hand is resting on the center console, and I kind of want to reach over and take it, just so I can use him as a security blanket of sorts, but I resist that urge. Thankfully, we don’t have much farther to go, because we’re driving down what appears to be a dirt driveway that stretches on for miles. Eventually, lights shine in the distance, illuminating the Texas night.
We pull up to a double-wide trailer where five other cars are already parked. Dallas turns off the truck and slides his keys into his pocket before turning to me. “I’m serious. I won’t let anyone hurt your feelings. I already talked to Bubba and told him to call the boys and threaten them within an inch of their life. Ain’t no one gonna mess with you. You can trust me.”
I quirk a smile, my cheeks warm. “I know. Sorry, it’s just . . .”
He rests his hand on top of mine and squeezes. “I swear. I’ve got you.”
He’s always had me.
We make our way down the stone walkway leading up to the house. We’re halfway there when the front door bursts open and a super-sized muscle daddy leans over the porch railing, waving.
“Way-hey!” The bearded man—Bubba, I presume—hollers into the endless stretch of stars behind us, his arm flailing left to right in an overzealous wave. This Bubba fellow has a cute homestead; I’ll give him that. From what I can see, the trailer looks brand new, and there’s a stunning patio that’s been added on. Unlike Daddy’s, there are no mismeasured wooden planks jutting out sloppily, not matching a goddamn thing. There’s no dry rot seeped into the bones of the small deck. Strangely enough, I don’t think this beautiful new porch holds a candle to the one Dallas made.
“Howdy,” Bubba says, taking my hand and giving it three firm pumps. “You must be Austin. It’s so great to finally meet you.” He looks up at Daddy and winks. “This guy talks about you all the time. It feels like you’re already part of the family.”
Is he teasing me? His voice doesn’t sound cruel. It doesn’t remind me of the boys who used to point at me when I was showering after P.E., announcing to everyone that the fag just popped a boner. Still, this man is straight, and straight men cannot be trusted.
Daddy’s right beside me, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass him or make his friends think he’s gay or something,but it’s flashback after flashback, horrible memory after horrible memory, and I need him. I need him to keep me safe. I grab the tail of his shirt and hold on tight, refusing to let go. He doesn’t even flinch when I’ve got it in my hand, nervously twisting the fabric into knots.
“Yep. This is my Austin.” His finger finds my chin, and he tugs until our eyes meet. “Aussie, this is Bubba. Say hello.” He must see how nervous I am, because he leans a little closer, his finger never leaving my chin, and whispers, “It’s okay, buddy. I’ve got you. Bubba’s a good guy.”
“Got myself a queer kid,” Bubba assures me. “And I’m damn proud of that damn queer.” I look over him, my eyebrow slightly rising. The man’s face goes white, and he quickly adds, “That’s how he identifies. I ain’t using it as a slur. He’s a solid three on the Kinsey scale, and that’s fine by me.” His smile widens, revealing an adorable little gap between his front teeth. “I’m a two, myself.”
“A two?” I ask.
He nods. “On the Kinsey scale. Means I’m incidentally homosexual, ’cause of this one time out at the deer camp with my buddy Johnny. He’s in the house. You’ll like him. Real nice guy. Anyway, we was out at the camp a few years back, and we got ourselves into one of them only-one-bed situations you read about in the romance books. We didn’t do nothin’ sordid or anything, but we laid in bed for a while, holdin’ handsand talkin’ about our dreams.” He’s got a far-away almost awestruck look in his eyes. “We had some real nice dreams.” Bubba sighs, shaking his head. “Well, after that weekend, I realized I can experience an emotional attachment to a man. Sometimes I check out your daddy’s ass at work. He’s got a real nice butt.” He turns his gaze to Dallas. “A real nice butt, indeed.” His eyes dart back to me. “Spin.”
“Pardon?”
“Give me a twirl. I want to see if you inherited the royal rear.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Royal rear?” I shake my head because, no, that’s not important. “You realize we aren’t related.”
Bubba nods. “Do a twirl anyway.”
My lip curls into a smile, and—blushing quite furiously—I give him a little twirl, arching my back for added emphasis. I catch Dallas looking down at my ass, too, and it only makes my cheeks go warmer.
“That’s a mighty fine ass,” Bubba says. “Ain’t it, buddy?”
Dallas is breathing a little heavier, his head nodding slightly. “My boy is perfect.”
As my heart flutters in my chest, Bubba takes a step forward, eyeing me up and down like a hunk of meat. “I’d rock your world, if I wanted to,” he muses.
Dallas growls at him.
“Do you want to?” I ask, wanting to make Daddy a little jealous.
