Page 45 of The Texas Sterling Collection
The server shook his head. “I’m gonna write still mooing on the ticket and find out if the chef catches on. I’ll have your lunch out in a few minutes.”
A diner from across the patio rose and came to our table. “Wyl?” His tone sounded more like an accusation than a question.
Wyl flinched before his face morphed into shock. “Dusty. What are you doing here?”
I looked back and forth between the stranger and Wyl, and alarm bells went off in my head. So, this was Dusty.TheDusty. Wyl looked terrified. And Dusty acted like a smug know-it-all who got what he wanted when he wanted it. I took an instant dislike of him.
“I retired to Bandera. Imagine seeing you here.” Dusty glared at me, still speaking to Wyl. “Who’s your friend?”
Wyl nodded toward me. “Dr. Rod Bonner.”
This guy fits the definition of an asshole. An asshole who pissed me off. But I contained my anger. “Is this the Dusty you told me about?”
Wyl toyed with the beer mat and nodded. “He’s the one.”
Dusty turned his glare back to Wyl, not caring about me. “So, what are you up to now? Is your wife out shopping with his?” He thumbed at me like a tramp from the street. Asshole became a gracious compliment regarding this character. The fresh shit sticking to boots and shoes.
“No. I managed to avoid the ball and chain.” Wyl threw a worried glance at me.
“Oh yeah? I figured the service would toughen you up. I thought you understood Marine and gay don’t go together.”
An evil chuckle tumbled out as Wyl shook his head. “Fuck you, Dusty.”
“I knew a gay Marine a few years ago. Something kind of…you know…weird about a faggot.” Dusty threw on an evil sneer and waggled his hand.
Wyl pushed on the edge of the table and shoved back. “I gotta pee.” His scowl said everything. He was done with this piece of human trash. His chair shuddered, scooting around as he shot up and hurried into the restaurant.
I fought the urge to go after him. He was upset, but maybe he needed a minute to splash cold water on his face and calm down.
Dusty sneered at me. “What the fuck?”
My anger at his hostility became a primal need to defend Wyl. I had had enough of this piece of shit. “Wyl is the best man I've ever met. The kind of man who would never dehumanize another or resort to name-calling and innuendo. Unlike some people, he’s above making uninformed remarks. And yes, he is my boyfriend, and I’m proud of it.”
Dusty frowned. Through clenched teeth, he spat out the words. “You fags are ruining the country for us decent people.” Dusty locked disgust-filled eyes with me. “Your fucking gay agenda and recruiting campaign piss me off. I hate your kind.”
I shot up, my chair falling back. “Fuck off, Dusty. You’re a stupid, uninformed moron to believe in gay agendas and gay recruiting. Why don’t you crawl back under your slimy rock with the rest of the worms? And you don’t know shit about Wyl. I bet your dick is as small as your mind.” I held my thumb and index finger a half an inch apart in Dusty’s face.
Dusty grabbed my shirt in his fist with pure evil in his eyes and yanked me forward, his other arm cocked back to deliver a punch. Silverware clattered across as the table tilted toward Dusty. Beer schooners tumbled to the deck, foamy contents splashing out. The deck quieted as other diners kept their eyes on the confrontation. Dusty leaned in mere inches from my face. “Fucking watch yourself, Bonner. Unfortunate accidents happen to faggots. After we parted ways, I thought Italy would take care of Wyl, but no.”
Gaining guts, I didn’t realize I had; I shoved hard against Dusty’s shoulders. “You don’t scare me, fucktard.” I waved my finger at the other diners. “And these people witnessed your threat. Why don’t I call the police and let them take statements from these folks?” I held Dusty’s stare, pulled out my cell phone, and smirked. My gut shivered with fear, but defending Wyl strengthened me against the bigoted enemy.
“Go find your boyfriend. Maybe you can suck each other off in the bathroom. I hope we don’t cross paths again.” Dusty shoved me back into my chair. I heard him mumble the wordsfucking faggotsas he stomped away.
The waiter approached, picking up fallen glasses and utensils. “Are you okay, sir?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” My heart pounded, and my hands trembled. I replayed the situation with Dusty. I stood up to a bully for the first time in my life. The trembling didn’t come from fear but from elation. Gay bashing still haunted me, but I couldn’t let the bastard think he won.
I put my phone away and took calming breaths. The waiter brought two new schooners of beer, and I took a few hefty swigs to help settle my nervous stomach. The manager came out and asked Dusty and a woman — his wife, I assumed — to leave and not return. Dusty aimed another sneer at me as he escorted her down the back stairs. I hoped for no more encounters with the idiot.
After I calmed down, I realized Wyl had left some time ago. I went inside to an empty men’s room. I asked the guys at the bar if they had seen Wyl. They said he left in a hurry about ten minutes ago. I figured about the same time he fled from Dusty. I paid the tab and rejected the offer to take lunch to go. My hunger for food vanished. But for finding Wyl, it was ravenous. I jogged to the parking lot, hoping to find Wyl leaning against the truck. No Wyl. I grabbed my phone and texted him.Where are you? Are you okay?
No response. I climbed into the truck and waited. Stomach tied in knots; I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans. Minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, then half an hour. Where did Wyl go? I couldn’t drive around looking for him. He may have gone anywhere or taken a stroll on the river trail. I wouldn't leave until I had him in my arms. I paced the parking lot. My phone vibrated after the worst 45 minutes of my life. I grabbed it. A text from Wyl.
Sorry. Seeing Dusty hit me like a runaway train. He hasn’t changed, and I need time to think. I don’t want to drag you down.I rented a car and am headed back to the ranch. I stopped for a bottle of water and read your text.
Are you okay? Tell me where you are. Let me help.My hands shook so much I barely thumbed the message. With my tight chest, I gasped for breath and waited. Lightheadedness set in. I couldn’t lose Wyl again.
No response.
