Ummm… Karmen Ghia’s website.
Excerpt from “The Dipsy Doodle Inn”:
The phone rang as Clayton was on his way out to get Tyler from the hospital. Since his housemate had survived a severe asthma attack, Clayton figured he could wait a few more minutes and stopped to listen to the message.
“The boy toy again,” he thought, jingling his keys. “Dipshit. Tyler was on adrenaline, valium and hooked up to an IV all last night, that’s why he blew off your date.”
He left before the end of the message; the stressed and pained voice bothered him more than he wanted to admit and as much as all the other messages the poor kid had left since Tyler stood him up last night.
Of course Billy—no, Gilly—didn’t know why Tyler blew off his date. Tyler was keeping the kid in the dark about most things, working up through a long, slow seduction to a wham-bam-hit-and-run night in the sack. It was pure Tyler, although Clayton did wonder why it was taking so long. Something in Gilly’s voice nagged at him.
It was a nice voice, but even on the phone machine the innocence was there: the hurt feelings, the confusion, the minor tones of guilt and doubt and fear, but above all the innocence. Gilly’s was a heart for the breaking and if Tyler was having second thoughts, Clayton approved. But knowing Tyler’s capacity for mistreating his lovers, Clayton thought it was probably just more fun for his housemate to have his lovers madly in love with him, as opposed to sort of in love, when he dumped them. Not that Clayton was an expert on gay romance, but he was an avid Tyler watcher, and Gilly sounded like yet another sacrificial victim on Tyler’s altar dedicated to Tyler’s ego. It wasn’t exactly that Tyler was mean; he was just easily bored. He’d had his heart broken in college and never quite got over it. Clayton knew all this because Tyler had cried on his shoulder for weeks after that break up. But it was the last time Clayton had seen Tyler cry about anything.
At the hospital, he found Tyler flirting with his doctor and the floor nurse, so Clayton thought no more about it.
Tyler was looking a hundred and ten percent better. He was conscious, breathing normally, and had his waist-length blond hair pulled neatly back in a ponytail like usual. Other than the spacey drugged look softening his hard green eyes, he looked as cool and sardonic as ever. “How do you feel?” Clayton asked.
“Completely wonderful,” Tyler drawled. “I’ve had the best care my insurance will pay for.” This got a laugh.
“And drugs, too,” Clayton said, easing the prescription out of Tyler’s paw.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll be high on prednisone for a week or so,” Tyler sighed. “Small price to pay for livin’.”
“It’s time to go, Tyler,” Clayton said, and he shepherded Tyler to the car. On the way home, Clayton very considerately stopped at the drugstore and had the prescription filled. Tyler was happily spaced out and babbling, but more importantly he was breathing, so Clayton tuned him out and drove.
End of Excerpt
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