Book 2 in the My Strange Little Oasis trilogyGo, the voice of the spirit whispers to Ren Gallagher.
Ren fears he will only be rejected at The Oh Aces due to his disfigured face, but yearns for relief from the suicidal depression and social isolation he is sure will kill him in time.
At The Oh Aces Ren finds its members, The Aces, are like brothers, and share such a blazing sexual bond they happily “eat together and then eat one another.” To his surprise, what he doesn’t find is rejection.
However, a gifted psychic named Andy wants more than just sex with Ren. He wants to win Ren’s love by helping him out of the abyss of his depression. But Ren soon fears he has a stalker of the worst kind: one who wants his body and invades his mind.
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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.
On his way out of the club Ren said goodnight to Lee, Benjy, and a few of the other Aces sitting at the snack bar, and he wondered if he would ever return.
As he walked out the door, he glanced at the red light at the entrance. This time, instead of seeming to wink at him, it appeared weak and faded as though its bulb was burning out. Ren drew closer to the light, and it sputtered briefly, then crackled back to life with renewed energy. For all its tacky, artless simplicity it’s somehow perfect, Ren found himself thinking. In its way it seemed to symbolize so many things at once: sex, lust, heat, the allure of the forbidden ... everything that nearly two decades of disease and death had destroyed or diminished in a community. He then looked at the ivy-covered brick walls of the club’s exterior, telling himself he should never return, yet knowing he probably would, although he definitely needed to avoid Andy.
“Quite an odd little outpost, isn’t it?,” a man suddenly said, startling Ren.
“What?” Ren replied. The man stood beside a glistening blue Ford pick-up truck that looked brand new. Ren recognized him as the guy with the amazing muscled chest, the one who never took his shirt off in the club, much to his disappointment.
“It’s just a funky little outpost that’s somehow managed to survive just like we have. Pretty amazing, huh? So are you coming or going?”
“Oh ... well ...” Ren said, caught like a deer beneath the all too bright security lamp of the small parking lot. He stepped out of its direct glare. “I’m going ... because I already ... came.”
The guy laughed. “ I’ll bet you did. Good for you. I like that. That’s what it’s there for, a little bit o’ joy in the wilderness. I was kind of hoping you were just getting here though.”
“Really?” Ren said, dubious.
“Sure. I don’t want you to think I’m a snob. I’m a friendly guy. I’ve seen you in there. I just never had the opportunity to say hi. You’re always ... busy.”
Ren shook his head and looked away shyly. “You must be kidding. I have a reserved seat at the far back corner of the patio. I probably look like a mannequin.”
“Yeah, but that horn dog who thinks he’s Merlin the Magician always seems to dominate your time. I never get a chance. Anyway, if I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?”
And he smiled this great, warm smile that made him look super-woofy. Ren was expecting the What’s Wrong With This Picture look by now, especially considering the bright lighting in the lot. Damn, he thought. Why couldn’t we have met in the club? I feel so fucking naked out here.
“Sorry,” the guy said sheepishly. “That was pretty lame, I guess. It’s the title of some country song I heard on KZLA. Anyway, I really have been wanting to talk to you a little in the club. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”
“That’s too bad. I kind of like nasty animals,” Ren said.
The man chuckled. “ Oh well, maybe we can talk sometime soon. I think I’ll be here Friday night if you’re around.”
Ren looked at him, not sure whether to feel flattered or confused.
“What’s your name?”
“Ren.”
“Hey Ren, I’m Gust. Nice t’ meet you.”
“Gus?” Ren asked. What’s with all the old geezer names in this place? he thought. Barney ... Cornell ... Gus ... isn’t anybody named Billy or Josh or “Mikester” like they are in bars or chat rooms?
“No. It’s Gust. Like a ‘gust’ of wind. And please don’t say what that goofy psychic who’s always talking to you on the patio always says to me: ‘Hey Gust, you blowing or wanna get blown tonight?’ And then he cackles like some demented hyena. That guy’s got more tricks up his sleeve than I got in the seventies. He gives me the creeps.”
“Me too,” Ren replied immediately. “ I thought I was the only one ...”
“Hardly. Oh, well, hey, I don’t wanna hang you up out here since you’re leavin’. Maybe I’ll see you on Friday night if you can make it. That would be nice.”
“Sure” Ren replied. “Maybe I’ll see you.” By now he had gradually scooted well outside the glare of the security lamp and was a little more comfortable.
Gust noticed this, but remained in the light himself, a short distance from Ren, not wanting to seem too aggressive or overbearing. “And maybe I’ll see you,” he replied, smiling winsomely. “Have a good night.” Gust headed toward the entrance to the club.
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