Page 52 of Big Britches
“You know what I mean. Their innocent little minds aren’t jaded by the real world yet.”
“Things are getting better out there, you know?”
“Says the also closeted landlord of Spoon’s Hawthorne House.”
“I’m not closeted, Titus. Just cautious. I get out. I went to a drag king show at Aphrodite’s last weekend.”
“In Macon?! Don’t they shoot gay people there?”
“That was several years ago. And he survived. He lives in Atlanta now.”
“He was shot six times, Barb. I read it in The Telegraph. And what about that woman last year?”
“That was two years ago,” she countered, then reluctantly added, “She died.”
“You’re safer in Spoon. It’s a savage world out there.”
“Things are changing, T. With Clinton in office?—”
“Come on. Don’t ask, don’t tell? DOMA? He perpetuates it.”
“You really should be in politics.”
“It’s all BS. I read all the crap, watch it on TV. Makes me nauseous.”
“You could change things, T. Here, anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Spoon’s gay mayor, and his boyfriend–his Mexican boyfriend. What are you trying to do, get us lynched?”
“Titus, this town loves you. You made them state champions four years in a row.”
“That was over five years ago.”
“That’s my point. People remember. Singers, actors, athletes–they get elected all the time.”
“If you’re so passionate about it, then why don’t you run?”
“Because I don’t have your pedigree. You come from a line of politicians–father, grandfather. You’d be a shoo-in.”
“Big Britches,” Titus muttered disdainfully.
“–is back! Make a great campaign slogan, don’t you think? Return of the king. It’s power you could use for good.”
“I wouldn’t know what the fuck I was doing, Barb. I’m not qualified.”
“You own your own business.”
“It’s a printing company.”
“And Truman owned a building supply company. And Trent was an accountant. Do you not see a pattern here?”
“You’re impossible.”
“I believe in you, T, just like all those people at HOCO stadium did. I’m hoping one day you will too.”
The words lingered. Barb remained quiet, as if to emphasize them. Titus said nothing. After several seconds of this silent tug-o-war, she relented. “OK, I’ll shut up now.”
“Thank you.”