Page 35 of Sweet T
“Fashionable?” Tucker asked, trying his best to subdue his tone.
“Sorry. Poor choice of words. The norm, I guess. I mean, there’ve been mixed families, gay families, chosen families since the dawn of time. But with the internet, it’s become much more visible, like everything else.”
“Do you think Daddy took advantage of his position?”
“Do you?”
Tucker thought about it, then shook his head. “No. I mean, he was white, but he was also gay and closeted. He, Roz, and Barb were friends as teens. They knew his secret long before anyone else. They were close, trusting.”
“Barb?”
“She’s family too.”
Evan was befuddled. “Family as in gay, or family as in chosen?”
“Both.” Tucker chuckled. “I’m doing all this on purpose, you know. Confusing you. It’s part of my secret plan.”
“It’s working.”
“Barb owns the Hawthorne House, a boarding house in town. She’s like an aunt to me. You’ll meet her, eventually.”
“You say that like you’re inviting me to stay.”
“Well, you are, for a while at least. I’m just giving you the lay of the land.”
“I appreciate your making me feel welcome.”
“It’s all good. You’re easy to talk to, Evan.”
“You too... even if you do get a little hot-headed.”
“I’m better with you than most. Something in your eyes calms me.”
“I’m Artemis, soother of the wild beasts.”
Tucker’s brow furrowed.
“It’s Greek mythology,” Evan explained, the paleness of his blue eyes contrasting with his dark hair almost preternaturally. “It’s a metaphor. Not important. I’m new to you. Neutral. Probably makes me easier to talk to. I may be biased, though, seeing as how you rescued me.”
Tucker waved dismissively. Suddenly, he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. “It was the right thing to do.”
“Well, I’m in your debt. So, if my punishment is hearing all about your perplexing family drama, bring it on. I can take it.”
Tucker glanced up past Evan. “You’re fixing to meet the first of them. That’s Daddy P’s truck I hear now.”
Evan had heard nothing, but now he could—the steady purr of an approaching engine. He looked over his shoulder and saw the electronic gate opening slowly, as a white truck with a landscaping trailer attached rolled in. Stenciled on its side in green read Pedro’s Pro Landscaping.
The truck door opened, and a man hopped out. He was small compared to the enormous Dodge Ram he emerged from, and dressed in jeans and a stained t-shirt. He crossed the small stretch of yard to the pool and their table, smiling.
“You must be Evan,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Pedro. Pedro Torres. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Evan Harbuck.” He stood, taking Pedro’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I can’t thank you enough.”
Pedro smiled warmly. “Any friend of Tucker’s is a friend of ours.”
“Yeah, but y’all hardly know me.”
“Well, we do now, and we’ll get to know you better. There’s a starting point for everything, right? I need a shower first, though. I reek.”