Page 1 of The Road Ahead
Chapter 1
Rio
As I pulled up at the red light, my jaw cracked as I yawned. I groped blindly for the bottle of cola I’d thrown on the passenger seat and twisted the lid off, swigging down a few mouthfuls. Normally, I didn’t drink cola, especially so early in the morning, but my baby didn’t have cup holders, and I would not risk spilling hot coffee on my lap by holding the cup between my thighs as I drove. Right now, I’d take the caffeine in whatever form I could get it.
There was the loud rumble of an engine, and a moment later a bright yellow Camaro ZL1 pulled up in the lane next to me. My baby—a 1985 Toyota AE86 Trueno I’d imported from Japan—was a right-hand drive, so my driver’s window aligned with that of the Camaro. I deliberately didn’t bother turning to make eye contact with the other driver, not at all interested in a dick-measuring contest. Not that it was obvious I had a dick . . . but still. I wasn’t interested in dragging the Camaro away from thelights. I loved my baby, but she was over thirty years old. She simply couldn’t keep up with the speed of newer cars.
The driver of the Camaro revved the engine and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I was way too tired for this shit. Then they rolled down the window and shouted to get my attention. Knowing they wouldn’t give up no matter how much I ignored them, I wound down my window as well.
It took a while, given that electric windows weren’t really a thing back in 1985 and I had to do it manually.
“Yeah?” I asked, trying to sound bored as I turned to face them.
Mr. Camaro—a guy with a douchey haircut and a soul patch—widened his eyes as he took in my appearance. Then he smirked. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing driving a car like that, sweetheart? If you need something powerful between your thighs, I’d be happy to offer you my services.”
I quirked a brow, wondering if Mr. Camaro honestly thought a cheesy pickup line like that would work. He was still giving me that stupid smirk, but I knew exactly how to wipe it off his face. “Sorry,sweetheart,” I drawled, deepening my voice just a little. “I’m actually a top, so it’d bemebetweenyourlegs.”
I could see the exact moment he realized I wasn’t a girl. To be fair, I wasn’t a guy either, but as the light was about to go green, I didn’t really have time to educate this moron on what non-binary meant. I was fairly androgynous, but I loved wearing makeup and soft, pretty clothing, so more often than not I was mistaken for a female. Some people seemed to be overly invested in what I had between my legs, and I usually shot them down fast when they questioned me, but now and then the truth helped me put an asshole in their place.
“What the fuck are you, then?” Mr. Camaro demanded.
“Outta here,” I said, then blew him a kiss. His mouth was still hanging open as I gunned the engine and took off, leavinghim still at the line. “Asshole,” I muttered to myself as I shifted through the gears.
I soon left the random town behind as I continued to head north. I was only two hours away from Pathfinders Lake, so even though I’d been driving almost non-stop for two days, stopping only to sleep for a handful of hours at a time, I was going to push through.
I’d not even looked back as I’d left Georgia . . . and the people I’d once called my family.
Growing up in the Deep South had been hell, but I’d been stubborn and tried to be true to myself as much as was safe. I’d known since I was thirteen that I didn’t really identify as either a boy or a girl, but I’d kept quiet on that front. Other kids, as well as my dad, had bullied me mercilessly for not being a stereotypical man, so I’d known I’d be literally risking my life if I came out.
Funnily enough, my dad wasn’t bigoted in any other way. My mom was Argentinian, and he’d never made a comment about her ethnicity. I’d even seen him call out others who had done so. I took after Mom in my looks, so it wasn’t the color of my skin that pissed Dad off. It wasn’t even the fact I also inherited my height from Mom—or lack thereof. I topped 5'3" when I tilted my chin up and I had also been a skinny kid. If I’d been into football or baseball, Dad would have forgiven me for my small stature, but I’d been into dance instead and that was way too “girly” for his liking. He had drawn a line in the sand and I’d shimmied my way across it.
I’d never shared the part of myself that loved cars with my father. He might have been more accepting of me if he knew I enjoyed a “man’s hobby,” but if he couldn’t accept me for who I was, then fuck him. I kept it locked away, sharing it only with my friend Trevor, who was a mechanic like his dad. I’d not confided in Trevor about my gender, but I had a feeling he’d figured it out.Regardless, he’d never judged me for my hobbies or who I was, and I was lucky to have had a friend I could be safe with.
Hiding my true self from the world wasn’t easy, and it got even harder once Mom died and I realized just how much of my happiness I was sacrificing. Life was short and could be taken from me at any moment. It still took me a long time to find the courage to come out. When the day finally did come that I was unable to keep my truth locked away any longer and I told my dad, he instantly disowned me. “You’re no son of mine,” he shouted, his face red and his eyes bulging with anger and hate. Any love he’d ever had for me had evaporated in an instant.
“Newsflash,” I retorted. “I never was.” I then walked out of the family home for the last time. My mother had been dead for almost two years, and I had nothing keeping me in Georgia and everything to leave for.
I went home to my shitty house on my shitty street and considered my options. I knew I needed to leave, to get the hell out of there. But where would I go?
The answer was obvious. Minnesota. My dad’s brother lived there, and growing up I’d spent many summer breaks staying with Uncle Emmett and his family. His wife, Cindy-Lee—who I’d always called Aunt Cee-Lee—and their two kids had always embraced me for who I was. Cooper was three years older than me, but his younger sister, Teresa, was only a year older. We’d all played together, and I’d considered them not just cousins but good friends. If there was anyone I could trust, it was their family.
It had taken just one phone call to Uncle Emmett and he’d convinced me to pack up my life and move to their small town of Stony Creek. Cooper was visiting his parents when I called, and Emmett put me on speaker. My cousin immediately offered for me to stay with him until I got myself set up with a place of my own. With that settled, I gave my notice at the gym where Itaught self-defense classes and packed up my old life, ready for my new one.
Teresa had been the one to message and ask if I wanted to attend the Rolling Stony Festival, an annual music festival held up in the mountains close to Stony Creek.
Teresa: It’ll be so much fun. Me, Coop, and my boyfriend are staying at the cabin up at the lake for a week. You’ll get here just in time for it.
Me: I’m not sure. I have so much to get sorted.
Teresa: It’ll be the perfect way for you to decompress and just chill. You need this, Rio. Besides, if you don’t come, Coop will totally cancel on me!
Me: Why the hell would he do that?
Teresa: Um, because he misses the shit out of you? Don’t get me wrong, so do I, but Coop won’t want to wait to see you. He’ll blow the festival if it means getting to hang with you sooner.
Me: I think you’re exaggerating, but fine, I’ll come. Just as long as everyone’s cool with it.
Teresa: Eeep! I’m so excited. I can’t wait for you to meet Brad! See you at the cabin!
