Free Slow and Steady Rush by Laura Trentham Page A

fingers through the holes.
    Was Ada right? Probably. She always ended up being right.
    The book slapped shut. “I don’t suppose I could have a bowl of the banana pudding I smelled earlier? I’m old enough to have dessert before dinner.”
    “Robbie took it. I mean, I made it for him.”
    “Why is that, dear?”
    “To … you know, thank him for helping you, checking on you … and stuff.”
    “It’s not because you thought he was gay?”
    “What? How in the world …”
    Ada palmed the smart phone Logan had bought her and waggled it. “Darlin’, the girls at the library texted me before you even made it home from the Piggly Wiggly.”
    Darcy fell to her back and pulled the afghan over her head, muffling her voice. “He’s not actually gay.”
    “Good gracious, of course he’s not. Half of the women in town are prancing around like bitches in heat. He must give off some sort of male animal pheromone. I saw that on Oprah one time. Are you attracted to him?”
    “Oh. My. God.” The afghan stayed put over her face. Was she actually having this conversation? She’d never confided in Ada about men. In fact, Ada had only briefly met the two men she’d gotten semiserious with in Atlanta, and she’d never brought either of them home to Falcon. “Who wouldn’t be?” Darcy’s voice barely penetrated the yarn. “He hates me.”
    “He’ll get over it. Although, I’m not sure a banana pudding is going to make much of a dent. Give it some time. The rumors will die.”
    “Will they? They never did about Mama.” Darcy pulled the afghan off and raised her head.
    “There’s a big difference. The rumor about Dalt isn’t true. Your mama … well, she did her best to stoke the talk.”
    Silence settled for a time.
    Ada cleared her throat. “Since there’s no pudding, could you fix some macaroni and cheese? There’s a documentary on the PBS I want to watch. How about it?”
    Laughter snuck through her embarrassment. Darcy hauled herself up. “Coming right up.” She was almost out the door when she turned back to lay a kiss on Ada’s age-softened cheek. Ada patted her hand, no words necessary.
    #
    Robbie drummed his fingers on the arms of his recliner. Sexual frustration tinged with anger drove his restlessness. Only one thing to do. He hauled his motorcycle out of the detached garage and pulled on a leather jacket and black helmet. The growly vibration of the crotch rocket’s engine settled in his chest, helping to erase a portion of the emotional stew.
    With patience, he negotiated the bumpy lane, but as soon as he hit asphalt, he let the bike run. Twisty country roads beckoned. He went too fast. The danger and adrenaline fed the beast, appeased it.
    After his heart had stopped pounding and some of the tension left his shoulders, he pulled into an out-of-the-way convenience store to stretch. He drained a bottle of water in a matter of seconds, the leather jacket and helmet uncomfortably hot but mandatory. He might be reckless, but he wasn’t stupid.
    Robbie wasn’t sure the same could be said about the three young men sauntering in his direction. Their pants sagged, and their grungy T-shirts weren’t long enough to cover the tops of multi-hued boxers. All three boys were white, their muscles lean, not yet fully developed.
    The leader wore a smirk below a hooped ring in his nose. A rebel-flag bandana hung out of his back pocket, a swinging statement. His hair was short, spiky, cotton-colored. Pink scalp shined under the artificial lights. The punk was one aggressive neck tat away from being a poster child of the KKK.
    “Well, well, boys. If the rumors are true, we have caught ourselves a faggot.” The leader’s voice was thin but full of confidence and bravado. All three looked to be around eighteen, but Robbie had never seen them around Falcon.
    “I’m going to advise you to turn around and walk away.” Robbie propped his helmet on the bike and faced the trio. Robbie had at least eighty pounds on