It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from a short story that I’m working on for release later in the year. It’s an age gap MM hockey romance (shocking, I know) and involves a florist with some self-esteem issues and a young hockey phenom. I can’t tell you much more than that (it’s supposed to be a secret) but I hope you enjoy this tiny snippet.
Do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
Midge was somewhere in the shop, probably out front flipping the CLOSED sign to OPEN. She lived above the shop now. She and my mother, Mona, had shared a small place over in the Pine Hills district. When Mom had died two years ago from breast cancer, Aunt Midge had sold her rowhome and moved here. I charged her no rent for the flat above the store and this way I could keep an eye on my only close living relative. Or perhaps she was keeping an eye on me? That was up for debate to be honest.
“Aunt Midge?” I yelled as I stamped my feet and shrugged out of my coat. No reply. That made me anxious. I shouted louder. She was quite deaf but refused to get a hearing aid. Why? Who knew. You could ask her every day and she would have some crazy reply. Yesterday it had something to do with radioactive waves being picked up by hearing aids and transmitting into the human brain. She watched far too many movies. “Aunt Midge!!” I bellowed.
Midge came waddling out of the storage room. She was a tiny thing, built like my mother. Short and round with the same dusky brown hair that I had only hers was streaked with silver. Tiny glasses sat on her pug nose.
“Why are you always yelling?” she asked.
“Because you can’t hear. Why don’t you get some hearing aids?” I enquired just because it was part of our dynamic.
“They make my ears feel funny. Where’s the salmon ribbon?”
“Those are called sound waves, Aunt Midge.”
“Oh, bullshit. Why did you put the damn ribbon in the fridge?”
“No. I said Midge not…” She was already gone. Into the breakroom to look for ribbon in the fridge. I glanced skyward. “Please, whoever is up there listening, give me patience.”