While strolling through the opulent Broadmoor Hotel with its dark mahogany-paneled walls, I made a firm decision to let Sam handle all our future travel plans. Wow! Everywhere I looked were touches of old-world elegance and sophistication, with thick carpets, fresh flowers, and glistening chandeliers.
Our room extended the over-the-top experience. A suite overlooking the small lake separating various buildings in the hotel complex. From the terrace balcony, I saw people six floors below crossing a narrow footbridge across the lake’s center. The Rockies surrounded us like the protective sides of a cozy nest.
“Like it?” asked Sam, wrapping me from behind in his warm, muscly arms.
“Amazing! You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Yeah? Glad you approve. I wasn’t sure if we should start our trip with five-star accommodations, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to see this place, and it made sense for our itinerary.”
“What exactly is our itinerary, big guy?”
He turned me in his arms and held my waist, then gently kissed me. “That’s for me to know, and for you to not stress about. I’ve got you, little man.”
I leaned in, resting my cheek on his chest, determined to trust Sam with everything for this little escape. The day had been a real respite from the anxiety-riddled pace we’d left behind in Denver. Wrapped in his arms again, the safest place I’d ever known.
Of course, that’s when Sam’s stomach made its discontent known. Sighing happily, I leaned back and grinned.
“Time to feed the beast.”
He kissed me again, this time with more heat. I pressed tightly against him, tongues slowly tangling in a languid sea of pleasure and peace. Before things could get too heated, Sam pulled back with a huge smile and bright blue eyes shining.
“I love you so much,” he said.
“Love you back. Forever.”
His stomach rumbled again, and he absently rubbed it. “Maybe we should eat before we get carried away here.”
“Mmm, you can carry me away wherever and whenever you like,” I said, leaning in for another kiss. Then Sam picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
“Ugh! Put me down, you beast!” I said, playfully pounding his back and shoulders.
He swatted my butt and told me to behave. He carried me into the main sitting area, with its leather couches and gleaming kitchenette. Setting me down gently with a kiss on the nose, he reached for a leather binder on the coffee table.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asked.
“Whatever you are.” He raised his eyebrows. “Hey, you said I didn’t have to worry about anything. I’ve decided that includes where and when we eat on this trip. And whatever else you want to do.”
“You sure?” he asked.
I took the binder out of hands and pulled him close. “We both know there’s a lot I’m very unsure about, but being with you? Never. I trust you completely, and I truly appreciate how you lead us in ordinary, everyday things. I’m just glad to be with you.”
“Well…in that case, I’m thinking nachos and bowling.”
“Bowling?”
“Yep. They have a bowling alley in this place, with a restaurant attached. Come on, let’s see if there’s a wait to get a lane.” He turned to put on his shoes, and I followed suit. I’d said I was on board for whatever, and if that meant I was gonna be embarrassing myself with a large, heavy ball, so be it. My man had spoken, and I was there for it.
The space was appropriately called “Play”, and that’s what we were there to do. Sam got us a reservation for a bowling lane and the required shoes, then steered me toward the restaurant nearby. It was a mostly casual affair, with deep red leather seats that swallowed me up like a soft glove. I could hear balls smacking pins through the wall to our left.
“What are you going to get?” he asked, picking up a plastic coated menu. I smiled and didn’t make a move. His eyebrows shot up again, then a wide grin spread from ear to ear, matching mine.
“Okay, I see. Well, then,” he said, glancing back at the menu. “We’ll do the BBQ Brisket sandwiches and one of those Tomato & Burrata salads I know you like.” Sounded good to me, and if it made him smile like that, I was all for it.
The sandwiches arrived with surprising speed, smothered in a sweet sauce and filled with tender beef. The salad was perfection. We said little during the meal, just enjoying one another’s company. Finally, temporarily satiated, Sam signed the check, and we made our way to the shoe counter.
Lacing up my bowling shoes with their colorful — some might say garish — striping, I admired Sam’s firm ass as he bent over the ball racks near our lane, selecting his perfect choice. He caught me looking when he stood up with his pick, a dark blue one. I blushed, and he grinned. The color of his ball complimented his sapphire blue eyes, sparkling in the low, reflective light. Finding my own bowling ball proved tricky. My favorites were the green ones, and it made sense to have a different color from Sam’s. But of course, me being me, I got my thumb stuck in the hole of the first one I tried. I could feel Sam watching me, and I didn’t want to look like the total amateur that I was. Turning my back to hide my distress, I pulled and pulled. Suddenly my thumb popped out, and in my haste to massage the sore digit, I dropped said bowling ball onto my foot. Thankfully, only a glancing blow, nothing too serious, but I suffered for a full minute, painfully aware of throbbing fingers and toes.
“Having trouble finding a ball?” asked Sam, coming up behind me. The green ball at my feet rolled a few feet further away. Ignoring it, I reached back with my uninjured hand and squeezed Sam’s crotch.
“Nope. Found the ones I want,” I whispered. He leaned in closer and kissed the back of my neck.
“I promise you’ll get to play with them all you want in a little while. Do you want to leave? We don’t have to bowl.”
Turning into his space, I placed my hands on his chest. “No, I want to do it. But…um…yeah, I could use a little help to find the right ball. One that fits my fingers.”
He leaned in closer to whisper in my ear. “I think my balls fit your fingers perfectly.”
I chewed on that comment, grinning to myself, while Sam snagged a boring black bowling ball for me that weighed a pound or two less than the last one. At least my fingers fit, and if I dropped it — a distinct possibility — I risked less injury.
With our names added to the electronic scoring computer thingy, the lane opened up and Sam took his position. With grace and precision, he took three steps, bent down, and let the ball fly. Right down the center of lane, knocking down nine pins in his first go. He turned, smiling, and winked at me.
His second pass barely missed the remaining pin. For half a second he seemed disappointed, then shrugged. “You’re up, little man.”
My knees were only slightly wobbly as I tried to line myself up as he had. Sensing my uncertainty, Sam approached from behind.
“You want some pointers?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I haven’t bowled since I was a little kid. I have no idea what I’m doing, and people are watching.” Our lane was in the center of fifteen total, with every lane occupied. I irrationally thought the whole place was watching my performance, critiques at the ready.
I looked to my left, and sure enough, a young lady of our age smiled, waiting patiently with her ball in hand for me to take my turn. Sam saw the exchange and leaned into my ear.
“Stand on this spot. You want to take three steps, then roll the ball, aiming for either side of the center arrow in the lane. Do you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Take your time, you don’t have to throw it hard. Control is better.”
With a deep breath, determined not to let him down, I took three steps, nearly tripped when I bent at the waist, and the ball went careening into the gutter before the halfway point. I groaned and turned back to Sam.
He pulled me into a hug, whispering encouragement. “It’s okay. Just your first shot. It’ll come to you. Don’t worry about the score. We’re just playing.”
He kissed me on the forehead and then nodded to the ball return. My errant, traitorous ball had come back to taunt me further.
I picked it up with a deep sigh. Looking to my left again, I saw the young woman speaking softly to her friend. Both girls smiled at me and the one gave me a thumbs up in encouragement. I watched her as she set up in her lane. Taking three steps, I noticed she bent her knees, dropping her upper body down, but did not bend at the waist. In one fluid motion, she released the ball. It went toward a gutter, then curved toward the center, colliding with the head pin from the side and all the other pins fell. A perfect strike.
She smiled at me with a huge grin. I returned the thumbs up, then turned to face my lane. The gutters loomed large.
Balancing the ball next to my chest like I’d seen Sam do, I slowly stepped forward. On the third step, I bent my knees, swung the ball behind me, closed my eyes, and let the ball go with a soft thud. I stood up, watching the ball meander slowly down the lane, miraculously moving to the center as it approached the pins. One by one, they fell, some in slow motion. Only two remained standing. I’d done it!
“Not bad, little man,” said Sam. “I knew you had it in you.” I couldn’t help but smile and feel good about the rapid improvement.
Over the next hour, we bowled two complete games. Sam’s score dwarfed mine by a hundred points, but I had fun. Next to us, the girls wrapped up their game and changed shoes. They kept looking over at us, smiling and conspiring.
Sam returned from storing our balls back on the racks, and we changed back into our own shoes. As we stood to leave, the girls from the neighboring lane approached.
“Hi,” said the one with blond hair who had given me that first thumbs up. From then on, the two of them had seemed to pay as much attention to our lane as their own. Sam, of course, was oblivious, but I had a pretty good idea what was up. I sighed, resigned to the inevitable.
“Hello,” said Sam.
They looked at each other again, exchanging some unspoken signal, and the other girl, who up close seemed like a slightly older sister to the first, nodded her head.
“We were wondering,” she said. “Would you guys like to have a drink with us in the main lounge?”
Ugh. I knew it. I suppose I should have felt flattered that they would even think to include me. Attraction to Sam I understood; me not so much.
“It’ll be fun,” said the older sister.
Sam made a puzzled face, like he was contemplating their proposal, then grinned widely. “Ladies, appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid we have other plans.”
“Come on, one drink? Don’t say no.”
Sam’s expression turned serious. Then he pulled me to his chest, bent down and kissed me like he meant it. I saw stars and fireworks and felt funny things in my legs.
Pulling back, he settled me more or less on my feet, then turned back to the ladies. “As I said, we have other plans.”
“Aww,” said the older sister, grabbing the other’s arm. “Aren’t they the sweetest? Oh, well, no harm in trying.”
“We have to be going. Have a good night,” said Sam, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the shoe exchange counter.
Once in the elevator, I found my voice. “What was that?”
Sam sighed. “They would not give up, so…that was us helping them take no for an answer. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to do that.”
I spun to face him. “No…no worries. I’m fine. It’s just…that was so hot,” I whispered with a soft kiss.
The elevator dinged on our floor before he could reply. I grabbed his hand and led the way down the hall to our door. I was trying to wrestle the door key out of my wallet when Sam put a gentle hand on my wrist.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, but sometimes…I don’t know…I get a little possessive where you’re concerned.”
“I know…and I like it. I do. It just…surprised me, I guess. I don’t know why, but the whole situation was weirdly uncomfortable, not that they did anything wrong, but then you kissed me and…everything was right again. It felt…right.”
He grinned, then his eyes slanted into predator mode, and my breath caught. “You ready to feel a lot more of where that came from, little man?”
I swallowed with a nod. He took the key out of my hand, swiped the lock, and pushed us bodily into the room. The lights were off, the only illumination from the moon shining through the balcony windows. He nudged me back against the door behind us.
“Stand right here and don’t move,” said Sam.
“I need to pee.”
“Then go, and get back here. Better yet, come right back here in only your underwear, got it? And leave the light off.”
I did as instructed, leaving all but my black boxer briefs on the bathroom floor. I shivered in the cool air and positioned myself back where he’d left me, trying not to lean against the cold door.
I could hear him in the bedroom off the main living area. The sound of a suitcase being unzipped and the soft thump of his shoes hitting the floor. A minute later, he approached in just his underwear, blue eyes blazing with heat, a long cloth dangling from his right hand.
He leaned in and kissed me gently, his left hand caressing my neck, head, and chest. I reached up to tweak a nipple and he gently but firmly pressed my arms down to my sides.
“No touching unless I say so. You going to behave?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Turn,” he commanded. I complied, arms at my sides.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered behind my head. The soft necktie he had been carrying quickly served as a blindfold, which he tied tightly behind my head.
“Do as you’re told, and I won’t have to tie your hands, too.” I nodded, too overwhelmed already to speak.
“Do you trust me?” he asked. When I slightly nodded my head, he insisted on words. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Sam, I trust you. Completely.”
“Good answer,” he said, pressing his chest and groin against me. “Now, let me tell you how this is going down. You are going to do just what I say, and I promise you will be very glad you did. Now turn and face me slowly. Remember, no touching unless I say so.”
I turned slowly, my body in contact with his the entire way around. Face to face, his rigid cock rested firmly against my own. I couldn’t tell if the wetness was from me or him.
I couldn’t see him, but I definitely felt his tongue land on my neck, sucking gently and lapping at my Adam’s apple. Fingers roamed up and down my chest, abs, and upper legs, never touching my throbbing dick. When his teeth tweaked my right nipple, I yelped softly, but he didn’t relent. Instead, he kept up a steady nibbling on one nipple, then the other until I thought I might faint. I fought hard to keep my hands at my side and let him do what he wanted. It didn’t really hurt; it was just insanely intense. My cock leaked like a sieve. My head was swimming in a pool of endorphins.
He ran his tongue slowly up my treasure trail and across my chest, back to my neck, where he marked me with his mouth. That would be obvious tomorrow, and I was glad for it. I belonged to him, and I wanted everyone to know it.
His mouth devoured mine and we tangled tongues until I didn’t know whose was whose. Wet, slick, and pure fire. If he had so much as touched my dick, I would have exploded into a million pieces.
Sensing my impending overload, and perhaps his own, Sam pulled back, panting, and leaned his forehead against mine. Even though I couldn’t see him through the blindfold, I felt his body on mine from head to toe, and definitely in between.
When his breathing quieted, I sensed him slowly descending my body, hands and lips exploring, touching, kissing, licking. I gasped when his lips embraced my swollen dick through my underwear. He moaned and mouthed it, soon soaking the fabric. Fingers roamed up from the leg openings, prodding and teasing. I half wondered if he intended to make me come in my shorts. I was damn close.
In a flash, he ripped my underwear down to my thighs and swallowed me to the balls, nose buried hard in my pubes. He grabbed my ass and pulled me into him, like he needed my dick in his throat for oxygen. I didn’t know whether I should hold off or just let go. In the end, it wasn’t my choice — he reached up to tweak my already tortured nipples, and that pushed me over the edge.
He grunted as he took everything I had to give, holding me tightly to his lips. Finally, I was too sensitive, and he mercifully set me free. He rose, leaned against me, and kissed me, sharing some of what I’d given him. That was new. And weirdly hot. My dick thought so, as it stiffened once again.
“You want the blindfold off?” he whispered. I shook my head. I was enjoying the heightened intensity of all my other senses.
“Follow me, then. Slowly.” He led me by the hand from the door to the bedroom, where I stood facing the foot of the bed, my underwear still across my thighs. I suddenly felt even more vulnerable and exposed for some unknown reason. He was so messing with my mind, and I wanted more.
“Get on the bed carefully and kneel in the center. I want your head down and your hot, sexy ass up for me.” I might have whimpered as I obeyed his instructions.
We’d made love many times in a variety of ways, most often with Sam fucking me into oblivion. I always loved whatever Sam wanted to do with me. But something about this scene, being face down, blindfolded, with my hole on display, rocked me deeply. The vulnerability, the surrender, the trust — it all washed over me and pushed me to the edge of tears. Totally overwhelmed and definitely in the best way possible.
Thankfully, the tie across my eyes absorbed the few tears of joy that escaped as I waited quietly for Sam’s next move. He was still and quiet. I sensed him on the bed behind me, but all I felt was a gentle hand caressing first one buttock, then the other. Then two hands stroked my ass, softly kneading and massaging, spreading my cheeks and stretching my hole.
Soon fingers wandered into the crevice and teased my hole, touching lightly but never breaching. They were slick, which was weird because I hadn’t heard the pop of the lube cap. Slippery, silky strokes, taunting and probing. They would disappear for a second, then come back, slicker than before. The sensations were so vivid.
“That is so hot, little man. My pre-cum is coating your hole. Fuck, so beautiful.”
I groaned and bent lower, spreading my cheeks even more.
“Yes, Jack. That’s it. Show it to me. Fuck, your hole is begging for my dripping cock.”
“Please, Sam. Do it.”
He had the nerve to chuckle and stop stroking my hole. “Patience, little man. You’ll get what’s coming to you soon enough. But first, I’ve been waiting for this all day.”
Suddenly his tongue was on my ass, hot and wet, slathering and stroking and teasing its way deeper into me. His day old scruff scraped the tender skin on either side, increasing the intensity. It went on and on and on, a total assault on my hole until it was so tender and open his slightest breath gave me chills.
When he pulled my cock back between my legs and alternated between sucking and tongue fucking, I was nearly gone. Then he sucked both my balls into his mouth, gently chewing on them, his fingers never ceasing at my hole. His other hand stroked my rigid dick, slick with my pre-cum.
He sensed I was on the very edge and suddenly let go and pulled back, leaving me panting and bereft of contact. He didn’t leave. I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to simmer down, while I struggled to keep my hands by my head, firmly planted on the bed, and not reach down and finish myself off. I swear I could have come just by thinking about it. Almost.
Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it one more second, his cock was at my hole. With no hesitation, he pushed in all the way to the hilt, filling me and stretching me. He felt bigger than ever, and while I processed the burn and intense pressure, he leaned over and whispered, “Tell me when you’re ready.”
I breathed through the initial shock, forcing my hole to relax. The initial minor discomfort morphed into the familiar and welcome sensation of being connected. Complete.
“Please,” I begged, pushing back on him. He needed no other encouragement and began fucking me hard and fast, with long strokes as deep as he could go. He was relentless, and it went on for longer than I would have thought he could hold out. I braced myself for the onslaught and focused on how intense and wonderful it all was.
With no warning, he pulled completely out, which smarted a bit, and flipped me onto my back. Pushing my legs over his shoulders, he plunged his rock hard dick into my hole with no mercy. From this angle, with his cock stroking my prostate with each thrust, I knew I couldn’t last. Reaching for my cock, Sam slapped my hand away.
“Not yet, little man. I’ll tell you when,” he said.
The blindfold suddenly felt wrong. I needed to see his face, see the love and the ecstasy that I knew would be there. I ripped it off and threw it somewhere. He smiled down at me, sweat dripping onto my chest, and pounded me harder.
He grabbed my cock and stroked, matching his own. Steady and relentless, until his eyes widened as he pulled harder on my dick.
“Now, Jack. Come with me.” We spilled over the edge together, riding it as long as we could. My soul was full. My body would feel this beautiful assault for days.
Clinging to Sam, I didn’t want the connection to end. “Stay…please.”
We remained locked together until when we fell asleep.
Thursday greeted us with heavy rain. It didn’t put a damper on our mood. Sam was very attentive, touching me often as we showered and prepared for the next leg of our journey. While I repacked the few things left into our suitcase, he called Ben to let him know we would meet for breakfast downstairs, then hit the road.
The concierge was nice enough to stow our bags in a secure room off the lobby, then directed us to the Lake Terrace Dining Room for breakfast. Ben and Brandon followed.
The hostess showed us to a table overlooking the expansive lake, which would have been beautiful if not for the torrential rain. The restaurant was buzzing with most tables occupied.
“Sit with us?” I said, wondering if Ben would take me up on the offer. His eyebrows raised, he studied me for a moment. Deciding it was safe or something, he nodded, motioning for Brandon to pull up a chair.
The four of us looked over menus and ordered. Brandon went with a berry oatmeal. Ben and Sam both had the Rocky Mountain breakfast — a large plate full of eggs and various meats. I opted for a bran muffin, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a glass of orange juice.
Ben and Sam surprisingly didn’t steal bacon from each other’s plates. I guess they knew how to behave in public. Brandon was quiet, and hyper vigilant whenever anyone came near our table. In the past, that kind of thing would have driven me nuts with anxiety, but somehow knowing he was paying attention gave me space to be at peace and free from worry.
Sam signed the check, and we returned to the front desk to check out, while Ben and Brandon left to retrieve the vehicles. Sam paid for the two rooms, then tipped the concierge for bringing us our bags. Together, we moved everything to the lobby doors while we waited for our ride.
“How are you feeling this morning?” asked Sam.
I took his hand. “Wonderful. Alive. Peaceful. Which is weird, cause that’s not exactly my normal, but I’ll take it.”
“Good. That’s what I was hoping for.”
“Well, whatever you’ve planned for this trip, so far it’s working.”
“Just more of the same, little man. Rest, relaxation, escape.”
“Works for me. Here they come.”
Thankfully, the covered vehicle area out front kept us from the deluge raining down. In short order, the four of us sorted ourselves out and departed after Sam and Ben compared notes on the next steps of our journey.
The rain continued as we passed through Pueblo about an hour later, headed south. When Sam exited the interstate for a state road, I caved to my curiosity.
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going today?”
“Sure. We are on our way to Wichita.”
“That’s in Kansas, right?”
“Yep.”
I looked it up on my phone. “Uh, Sam? Isn’t that kinda out of the way to St. Louis?”
“That’s the whole point. Get off the interstate and see something of the country. And, there’s a hotel I thought looked interesting. Have you been through here before?”
“Um…I have no idea where we are. I never had a car reliable enough for a long road trip.”
He smiled and grabbed my hand. “Well, now you do.”
“Ooh…does that mean you’ll be my travel companion?”
He laughed. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll be there, little man.”
“Me, too,” I said, leaning on his arm and closing my eyes.
Three hours further down the road, Sam’s stomach demanded attention. To be honest, I was hungry, too. A bran muffin and fruit will get you only so far. I’d slept a good portion of the morning drive, amazed at how relaxed I felt. If only this could become my new normal. Time would tell.
The landscape revealed flat lands for as far as the eye could see. There was nothing to look at but farmland. It reminded me of the area where I had grown up, so in a way, it felt familiar. Boring, but familiar.
Sam’s stomach rumbled louder.
“How much longer before you need medical intervention?” I joked.
“Ha, ha, funny man. Do me a favor, see if you can find us a place to eat in the next town. The sign we just passed said Garden City.”
“You didn’t have this stop reconnoitered?”
He laughed. “Who says…recon…neutered? Ugh…that word? And I’ll have you know, part of the thrill of a road trip is not having every single thing planned out. You learn to appreciate things off the beaten path.”
“Okay, looking for a place to eat not on a beaten path. Though from the looks of things around here, it all seems a little…worn down.”
“Yeah, it is…bleak.”
“I was just thinking it reminds me of my past. I lived in a place not much different from this. Flat farmland and little else between one small town and the next, aside from the occasional silo or herd of cows.”
“Well, let’s hope Garden City has at least one place to eat.”
“Anything in particular you want? You can usually find fast-food chains anywhere on these roads.”
“Ugh. Not fast food. Not a chain. Something more local, if possible. We want the full experience of where we’ve been.”
“Okay, but if this turns into a sequel of ‘Deliverance’, I’m never speaking to you again.”
Sam glanced at me sideways. “Deliver what?”
I sighed. “Never mind, it’s a movie from a long time ago. I made the mistake of watching it when I was a kid. Gave me nightmares for a week.”
He chuckled. “No nightmares today, I promise. Get to Googling, little man.”
It turned out Garden City was a fairly large town of nearly thirty thousand, according to the sign as we neared. There were quite a few places to eat, mostly chains and fast food, as expected. Middle America, in my experience, didn’t stray too far from the tried and true. But I broadened my search and found a place called Napoli’s.
“Italian for lunch?” I asked.
“Yum. Uh…kind of heavy though, for a day of driving. What else is there?”
“Okay, don’t laugh. But in the same strip mall there’s a place called Pinky’s.”
“Seriously? Like in that movie, ‘Grease’? What is it? A 50s diner or something?”
My turn to laugh. “No. As a matter of fact, it’s a Cheestro.”
“A what?”
“You heard right. Pinky’s Grilled Cheestro.”
“What do they have?”
“I’m pulling up their website now.” The site was fairly simple, just a few pages. But it looked really cool inside. Lots of neon pink and a diner feel. “It says here they are one of the most unique restaurants in the area. Menu features unique spins on America’s favorite sandwiches, artisan Mac-n-Cheese and house made salads.”
“Mmm. Sounds good to me. Can you get me directions?”
My mapping app had us leave the main highway we had been on and head south, supposedly toward the center of the town. At first there was less than nothing, certainly no big buildings in the distance. But gradually the sparse countryside gave way to more and more small businesses, residential areas, a plethora of fast-food joints, and assorted gas stations and convenience stores. We made a left at what looked like the main intersection and continued on through more of the same.
A few minutes later, I directed Sam to turn off toward a strip mall in the distance. I glanced behind to see Brandon concentrating on not losing us. Sam was driving a bit fast. Clearly his hunger was getting the upper hand. Hopefully we would find something to satisfy the beast.
We joined a small collection of older model cars at that end of the strip mall. Pinky’s was the last unit on the right. Three or four vacant storefronts separated it from Napolis, the Italian place.
Ben and Brandon looked at the place with clear disdain.
“You sure this is safe, Jack?” asked Ben.
“Looks good online. There’s more cars here than the other place, so the locals must like it.”
“Come on, guys,” said Sam. “Who doesn’t want to eat at a Cheestro?” Who, indeed?
We followed Sam inside, where a guy behind the grill counter in a chef’s hat to the right pointed to the tables across the space. “Pick anywhere you like. Come up to order when you’re ready.”
It smelled heavenly. I inhaled and imagined myself back in my grandmother’s kitchen, her signature ham and noodle casserole simmering on the stove. The aromas of cheese and comfort filled the air, like a warm hug.
There were maybe a dozen other people eating lunch in small groups. On one side was a row of hot pink leatherette covered booths, a few two and three-seater tables opposite. Several folks looked up from their meals as we passed. A couple even said, “Hi.” Friendly bunch.
Well, not everyone. Couple of farmer-types gave us a serious stare as we passed, turning for a second look. I instantly regretted my earlier reference to “Deliverance.”
Ben steered Brandon to a table and pointed to the booth across from Sam and me. Apparently, we weren’t eating together this time. Both Ben and Brandon seemed on edge, though I couldn’t tell why. It felt kind of homey to me.
Sam was oblivious to all of this, sliding happily into the booth and looking at all the colorful graffiti inspired art on the walls.
A young girl of maybe sixteen with pigtails, nose ring and name tag of Cindy arrived with menus and plastic glasses of ice water. “You folks from out of town?” she asked. Suddenly I was freaking out inside, phantom insecurities rising as if I really was back in my hometown. If you didn’t draw your first breath inside the town limits, you were forever an outsider. All my emotional antennae were up and pinging.
“Just passing through,” said Sam. “This place looked promising. What do you recommend?”
She turned up the wattage on her smile and gave Sam her full, perky attention. She even jutted her chest in his direction. Not very subtle. Oh boy.
“The Twisted Cristo is our most popular sandwich. And we’re famous for our mac-n-cheese,” she said. “Come on up to the counter, and I’ll make sure you get whatever you want.”
Sam was already perusing the menu and missed the megawatt smile she threw at him. She turned with a sigh and departed. Another disappointed admirer for Sam.
In the end, Sam ordered the Twisted Cristo with fries. I had the Smokehouse Mac-n-Cheese, and Ben and Brandon both ordered the Twisted Mac with pulled pork and jalapenos.
The food arrived piping hot, and the portions were huge. My dish was excellent and bold flavored. Loved it. The other guys agreed. I looked up from my half eaten dish, stuffed to the gills, and took the time to look around the place while Sam continued demolishing his sandwich.
Most of the people were still there from when we arrived. Clearly this was a place to not just eat, but to hang out with friends and while away an afternoon, maybe. Seemed friendly enough, anyway.
The little bell jangled over the door as an older gentleman came in carrying a large box.
“Hey, Mark,” shouted the chef guy behind the grill. Most likely the owner, or a manager?
“Hey, Charlie. Came to put up a few more signs, if that’s okay.”
“You need help with that?” asked Cindy, dropping the rag she used to wipe down tables and moving to the door.
“That would be most helpful,” said Mark. “Thank you, Cindy.”
“Hang them wherever you like,” said chef guy, who I now knew was Charlie. “I hear the play was a big success, yeah?”
Mark smiled. “That’s what they tell me.”
“It’s the best thing we’ve seen in these parts for a long time, you ask me,” said a middle-aged mom in the first both. Her teenage kids nodded.
The place was small enough we could hear everything. The two grumpy farmer guys scowled and stood up with attitude, slamming their chairs against the table and leaving their discarded leftovers behind. Everyone ignored them.
“We saw it twice last week. Once wasn’t enough,” said another patron. “Hey, Mark, did I hear you’re thinking about having a few more shows?”
“Well, I just came from the theatre, and they’ve agreed to give us a couple more dates next weekend, at minimum cost. I just have to get the cast and crew to agree,” he said, looking directly at a young man in overalls, about our age. His friend, of similar age, looked up from his meal.
“Say the word, Mark, we’ll be there,” said overalls guy. His friend nodded.
“Sounds like you’re the cat’s meow there, Mark,” said Charlie, the chef.
“I don’t know about that. I wrote and directed the play, but it’s really the actors and the crew that bring it to life.”
“There you go again, always downplaying your contributions,” said an older grandmother-type coming back from the restrooms. “All that time you ran the community theatre, putting on six shows a year, directin’, producin’, now writin’. This town wouldn’t know a show that didn’t have your fingerprints all over it, Mark Hays.”
“Here, here,” said two older men in unison entering the cheestro.
Mark, apparently the town’s theatre director or something, blushed and averted his eyes, clearly embarrassed at the attention and accolades.
“Hey, Cindy,” said one of the young men in overalls. “You in for another couple of shows next week?”
She grinned. “Hell, yeah. Most fun I’ve had in a coon’s age.” She returned to our table with a Cheesecake Cannoli. It looked like a sugar coma on a plate. Sam rubbed his hands together and dug in. He stopped to see if I wanted a bite, but I assured him I was good.
Before she could leave, I asked, “Hey, what’s the show everybody’s raving about?”
“Oh, that’s right. Y’all aren’t from around here. Well, Mark over there has been a fixture in the community theatre for…well, long as I can remember. He retired a couple years back, but had an idea for a new play. You know what? I’ll have him come over and tell you all about it.”
Before I could tell her she didn’t have to do that and not to bother the man, she was pointing him in our direction. He sauntered over with a sheaf of flyers.
“Cindy said you might have some questions for me?”
“So sorry to bother you. I know you’ve got things to do. We’re just passing through town, but I got curious about the play everyone’s talking about. Is it one we would have heard of?” I asked.
He grinned. “Well, son, if you’re not from around here, then no, you would not have heard of it. I wrote it for my last production. Actually, I’ve been writing it off and on for…a long time…and just got around to finishing it. I figured it wouldn’t cause any big stir, but it’s a passion project and I’m not getting any younger, if you know what I mean.”
“So what’s it about?” asked Sam. Ben stood behind Mark and pulled a chair for him to sit at the end of our booth. I noticed he and Brandon were paying close attention to everyone and everything.
“Oh, thank you, kind sir,” said Mark to Ben. “My, aren’t you a handsome thing? If I was thirty years younger…” Ben actually blushed and returned to his table. Brandon’s eyes were like saucers.
Sensing a kindred spirit of sorts, Sam pressed Mark for more details. “Tell us about this play.”
Warming to the idea, Mark settled in. “Well, as you’ve already heard, I’ve been involved in the local theatre for, well, most of my adult life. Theatre and performing have always been my life’s passion. I even tried my hand on Broadway for a time, but nothing ever came of it. It didn’t matter, though, because the theatre was in my blood. No matter what needed to be done, I raised my hand. Acting, singing, dancing, directing, producing. Anything and everything. Over the years, I moved more into managing the theatre overall. Picking the shows, working with the directors, set designers, costumers, the lot. Publicity, like I’m doing today,” he said, lifting his stack of flyers with a small sigh. “Anything to get butts in the seats. Sadly, that’s been a harder lift in recent years, what with Netflix and all the rest. No one wants to come out, let alone pay, for live performances. I retired from full-time work three years ago, and the local theatre all but closed down permanently.”
As he talked, some of the other patrons had moved closer to listen in. “Thank God for Frances,” said one gentleman. Others nodded.
“Ah, yes. Frances Cunningham was a regular patron of the arts here in Garden City,” said Mark. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly on the main line between anywhere. But even isolated like we are, people still appreciate a little culture from time to time, and Frances, God rest her soul, was good for this community. When she passed two years ago, Frances made it clear that her entire remaining estate, which was sizable, should be used to preserve and continue the arts here in town. And that included a minimum of three shows a year.”
“Here, here, for Frances,” said Charlie from the grill.
“Amen, brother,” said another.
I watched Mark’s face while the others bantered a bit about Frances. He looked a little sad, not like someone who had the whole place praising his work a few minutes ago.
He caught me staring and seemed startled. Sensing he had more he needed to share, I leaned closer.
“Tell us, please,” I said. Sam nodded.
The crowd got quiet again as Mark collected his thoughts. “Well, you see, this town wasn’t an easy place for a young gay man back in the 70s and 80s. Folks weren’t exactly accepting, and so for a while, I had to make my way elsewhere. But I was one of the lucky ones. My family, for all their faults and foibles, came to accept me the way I am. I’m a brother and an uncle to some beautiful nieces and nephews. My parents have passed away now, but we were close. As time went on, people gradually seemed to not notice anymore? Like it wasn’t really a thing like it had been. I came back home to help my parents who were aging, and my passion for the theatre sort of took over. It started with one play, then a musical, and then I volunteered to direct a play, and the rest is history, I suppose.
“And your play?” I prodded.
He smiled. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Well, I have a feeling I need to hear this story, about this play in particular.”
“Come on, Mark,” said the grandmother. “Tell them. It’s a good story.”
With a sigh, he nodded.
“About three years ago, I started to collect my thoughts around the idea of family. The power of family, both for good and for evil. It’s a universal thing, really. Much of our identity stems from whatever sense of family we have experienced, even when it’s the absence of family that colors our life the deepest. Family leaves a profound effect on us. For me, while it wasn’t all a bed of roses, my parents and siblings pretty much accepted me, especially when I got older. I think it was important I left for a while, so I had an opportunity to explore who I wanted to be. And I did that. But in the end, it was the powerful pull of family that called me back to Garden City.
Along the way, I met many people who unfortunately didn’t have a positive experience in their families. People faced rejection because they loved the wrong gender, looked too different, talked strange, or refused to be abused in any number of horrible ways. The stories have haunted me for years. In my retirement, their stories arose anew in my soul, and I had to find a way to make sense of them all. To find a light in the otherwise sad tales of darkness and despair. So I leaned into what I know — the theatre. I started writing a play that ultimately became what it is today. It’s called ‘Origins and Destinies’, and it’s all about how your family of origin — where you started out or were birthed from — often becomes your family of destiny.
But not always. For many, their family of origin is not healthy or safe. So they must search for a new family, a family of destiny. They may not share blood or relations, but they are family just the same. I have had that joy in my life, even with my family of origin being good for me. And I wanted to celebrate the freedom and victory people can find when they embrace the idea of a family of destiny, even if that’s just helping their family of origin see things from a different perspective.”
“Wow, that’s deep,” said Sam. I sat back, trying to process everything he’d said.
“It’s powerful, man,” said a guy standing behind Mark. “I had a brother who came out in high school, and my family, we weren’t very loving to him. He was bullied bad in school and we, his brothers, who should have had his back, didn’t stand up for him. He took off at sixteen and we never heard from him for nearly a decade. My mother never forgave the rest of us for essentially running him off. Thankfully, he came back a couple of years ago when he heard she had cancer and not long to live. She told every one of us that if we didn’t find it in our hearts to love him and welcome him back fully, she’d disown the lot of us. So we did. It wasn’t easy, but seeing the pain of that separation, knowing you’re part of the reason your mom was always sad and lost, that takes a toll. And this play, well…it opened up a whole new way of looking at things for me. My brother and I sat down for a long talk, and he forgave me for my ignorance and hostility. That wouldn’t have happened if not for this play.”
“Yeah, me, too,” said another woman. “My father sexually abused me as a little girl. I told no one, but I ran away from home at fourteen, sure I could make it on my own. A life of prostitution to survive, getting sick, hooked on drugs at one point. It was a living nightmare. Until I met some girls in a coffee shop who sort of looked like me, you know — tattoos and piercings and grungy clothes. But they had a spark, a light on the inside. Turned out they’d all had similar backgrounds and survived. They embraced me as a sister that very first day, and they are now my family of destiny.”
I didn’t notice I was crying until Sam handed me a napkin. I wasn’t the only one in the small crowd feeling the intensity of the stories. This was real life, the very people right there with us, deeply affected by, like Mark said, the power and impact of family. And I no longer felt like an outsider, strangely enough.
Mark reached for my hand and held it while I fought to compose myself. Sam grabbed my other hand. Someone came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. I knew it was Ben without looking. No way would he let anybody get behind me.
“Thank you,” I said when I could finally speak. “I…um…wow. You have no idea. I’ve…uh…been dealing with some of the same things for most of my life, and I never understood…any of it. Why? Why me? Why did I have to be different? Why couldn’t I just fit in, be like what everyone wanted me to be?”
“And now?” asked Mark, interrupting me before I got carried away with despair.
“Now? I have Sam, and others,” I said, pulling my hand gently from Mark’s and grabbing on to Sam’s.
“A new family begins,” said Cindy, like she was quoting a line from the play.
“A family of destiny,” said the young man in overalls. His friend stepped up behind him and hugged him around his chest, kissing his cheek.
“A new hope.”
Mark smiled gently and patted my arm. “That, my new young friend, is the power of family. Sometimes you have to leave one to discover another. One where you fit in, where people accept you for who you are. And where you give others the same grace to be all they are becoming. It takes time and perseverance, but it’s worth the effort in the end. And when you find it, embrace every loved one with all you’ve got. A wise person once said, family is not an important thing, it’s everything.”
“Here, here,” said half a dozen voices in unison.
“Now, we’ve bent your ears long enough, and I’m guessing Charlie wants to close up for the day,” said Mark, standing to his feet.
I stood and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you. I will never forget this as long as I live. Maybe someday I’ll get to see your play on a stage somewhere.”
He got a strange look on his face as he studied mine. He glanced at Sam and back at me. “Wait here a moment. I think I have something for you.”
Before I could tell him that wasn’t necessary, he was rooting around in his big box. He returned with a book in his hand and a big smile.
“I would like you to have this,” he said, handing me the book. It was the size of a regular sheet of paper, a little more than half an inch thick, and had obviously been well read. The light blue cover was of thicker card stock and emblazoned with the title “Origins and Destinies.”
I gasped. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”
He laughed. “Of course you can. I want you to have it. It’s my personal copy, the one I used to make notes and tweaks here and there as we put the play together.”
“But won’t you need this the for the shows next week?”
“Young man, as a theatre performer, you know when a show is ready when you no longer need the script or stage direction. It’s become a part of you. This play has been a part of me for decades. It’s who I am. So no, I won’t need this now. Please take it.”
I graciously accepted his gift, clutching it carefully to my chest. “Thank you, sir. I will treasure it, I’m sure.”
He smiled, and I stood, carefully placing the play on a clean part of the table. Before he could stop me, I embraced him in a hug, surprising us both. Pending tears glistened between us.
“I wish…” I started, but he put up a hand.
“I know. But we’re here now, at this moment. And I am profoundly glad I could offer you some encouragement and perhaps a bit of hope for the future. Though I suspect you’re already well on your way to your own destiny by the looks of him,” said Mark, grinning in Sam’s direction. And wonder of all wonders, Sam blushed and grinned, standing next to us.
Sam grabbed my hand. “Jack is my family now, sir. I promise I’ll take real good care of him.”
“I have no doubt you will. Well, I must be off. These flyers won’t hang themselves, and Charlie likes to have an afternoon siesta before the supper rush. Safe travels, my new friends. Do your best in all things, and help as many as you can along the way. That’s the makings of a good life.”
We nodded, and Sam pulled me closer. Mark smiled widely and returned to the front of the restaurant, chatting quietly with a few others. Chairs scraped across the floor and the remaining patrons put things back in place. Cindy cleared away the remaining dishes and carried them to the back. Little by little, people exchanged plans and departed, leaving Mark taping his flyers to the front windows.
“Do you need any help?” I inquired as we were making our way to the door.
“No, no. I’ll hang one more here, then I’m off to the next place. Thanks for the offer, though. Much appreciated.”
“Thank you again for sharing your story, and this precious gift,” I said, clutching it to my chest again. “I really do hope someday we can see your show performed live. Sounds like it’s made a huge impact on a ton of people, even strangers just passing through.”
He smiled and patted my arm. “You’re welcome. I hope it brings you some comfort and clarity in the years to come. Your future is what you make of it, and I have a pretty good feeling yours will be a good one.”
I nodded, Sam shook his hand with a wide grin, and the four of us walked out to the parking lot. While Sam and Ben compared travel plans and route choices, I leaned against the back of the SUV we were driving. Brandon scared me when he came around and leaned against the bumper alongside me.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure.” I guess we were having our first conversation.
“I get that you and Sam are together, and that’s cool and all. But…I don’t know how to say this…I didn’t get how hard it must be sometimes. That guy, Mark. He was saying some profound stuff, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was.”
He stood up and turned to me earnestly. “Well, I won’t always understand or say stuff the right way, probably, but I just wanted you to know that I’m on your side. You and Sam.”
I straightened and looked him in the eye. His blond hair hung across his forehead, lending a more youthful appearance than his actual age, which I assumed was late twenties. He looked more like Sam and me than Ben ever did, but then again, Ben had that whole ex-military, gruff exterior.
“Thank you, Brandon. I appreciate that. And hey, don’t stress about saying stuff the right way or whatever. I have no idea what’s going on half the time myself. But I’m glad you’re on our side.”
He nodded, all business again. “Better get back. Tell Sam to mind the speed limit, yeah?”
I grinned. “As long as we feed on the regular, he’s pretty low key. But I’ll watch him. See you at the next stop wherever that is.”
“You don’t know?”
“Nope. This entire trip is all Sam’s idea. I’m literally along for the ride.”
“Oh, okay. Well, later then.” He turned and climbed behind the wheel of the other SUV, suddenly very busy with checking things on his phone.
Sam and Ben finished their secret plans, and Ben followed me around to my door.
“You doing okay?” he asked. I knew he cared, no matter how much he might want to shoot me on occasion.
“Yeah, I’m good. That was…unexpected.”
“But good, right?”
“I think so. Yeah…very good. Who knew you could learn the secrets to life at a Cheestro in the middle of nowheres-ville.”
He laughed. “Get in the truck, Schaeffer. And tell him to slow down, or I’m taking his keys.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” I saluted, and he rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at me. Yeah, Ben was definitely part of our family of destiny, and Brandon might just find his way into our clan as well.